I would like to open this discussion in true amateur fashion by stating flatly that the ice boat is a ridiculously simple affair, and that, in nine races out of ten, the only significant difference between the first boat and the  last is either better runners, better sails, better controls or, most common of all, a better skipper. 

I would add that excellence in all these four essentials is relatively easy to attain — with the possible exception of excellence in the matter of sails. Sailmaking is a fine art, and ice boat sailmaking is a specialty within that art. Nevertheless, an understanding of what a sail really is, and of how it works, will enable you to do wonders for the sail you have without having to dent the budget for a new one. One of the grand things about any kind of sailing is that the ability to write fat checks never made a sailor, and the wise old ‘horny-handed’s boys who build their own and patch their sails can still bring ’em home in front — because they know what makes ’em tick. 

​To start with the broadest of generalities, every ice boat is essentially a framework mounted on runners and propelled by sails. Her speed, unhampered by any appreciable resistance, is more like that of a small airplane than that of a sail boat. Hence, it is reasonable to suspect that there is more food for thought in the airplane field than in that of the sail boat when we get into matters of design. 

By and large, the general conclusion ran pretty close to the most obvious one: that, somehow or other, the reversed hull, with rudder forward and runner plank aft, was the key to the situation. Pinned down to paper and pencil, some of these theories were a bit weird. Here and there amid the tumult and the shouting was heard a still, small voice saying: ‘Forget about the d—- bow rudder for a while and take a good, long look at the rig.” … The Europeans insisted that the secret of the new boats’ amazing speed lay in their modern, efficient and powerful rigs. They pointed out that tiny little sails of only 75 square feet area on these boats were generating enough power to carry two men as well as the boat at speeds far above those of the older and far bigger boats. They also pointed out that heretofore no boat with less than 125 square feet of sail had ever been more than an impractical toy, with no performance rating whatsoever. That this raised a storm of dissension is putting it mildly, for not only did these newcomers run rings around us and make us feel distinctly old-fashioned and helpless, but they all sported that shameless and unscientific cat rig! 

Let us here continue to delve into the problem of designing a proper rig for our ice boat in the light of the fast, off-the-bow, air current that seems to be what she normally has to work with. On the ice, courses are seldom held for more than a few seconds; wind direction and velocity are constantly shifting. There is no time for delicate sheet trimming. With a one-sail rig, it is possible, by hard work and a quick hand, to keep all the canvas constantly drawing. But with a sloop rig, the wind in the jib is going to do just one of three possible things: (a) help to drive the boat; (b) backwind the mainsail because trimmed too flat (killing the drive in the big sail); (c) luff because not trimmed flat enough, upsetting the air flow to the mainsail and surely doing nothing to increase progress.

​It is interesting to note here that the generally unsatisfactory behavior of ice boat jibs was well known to the pioneers of the sport along the Hudson River in the seventies and eighties of the last century. They tried the cat rig, complete with enormous mast and heavy gaff, all stepped on the backbone, well forward of the runner plank so as to bring the C.E. (Center of Effort) up by the main runners and away from the rudder. The results are not hard to imagine: One after another of these juggernauts took a quick run to windward, all very fine, turned gracefully around the weather mark, caught the breeze from the quarter, lifted her rear end off the ice and went berserk. The final wind-up was sometimes a quick spin in mid-river, with the crew sliding off gaily over the ice. But more often than not it was a sickening crash as the whole works tried vainly to rearrange the solid rock ballast of the Hudson River Railroad. 

In the early 1880’s, Charles and William Merritt, of the little village of Chelsea, on the Hudson River, designed and built the first successful lateen-rigged ice boat. Her single sail, triangular in shape, was bent to two long slender spars, called “boom” and “gaff,” respectively, from their relative positions when hoisted.

​The C.E. was well forward, away from the rudder, and yet there was no heavy mast out on the nose of the boat to overbalance her and lift the rudder off the ice — the bugbear of the cat rigs of that day. Results were as they should have been — highly successful. After one season of scaring the daylights out of far bigger sloop-rigged boats, she was bought by Commodore John E. Roosevelt, uncle of President Roosevelt, and one of the greatest of all ice boat fans. He named her Eugene and for many years she sailed with the Hyde Park fleet. Later, she was sold and renamed Vixen, under which rakish title she still races regularly as the flagship of the Orange Lake Ice Yacht Club.

Other lateens followed immediately but the sloop rig was still in favor with the famous builder and designer, Jacob Buckhout, of Poughkeepsie, who, with his son George, built most of this country’s successful ice yachts until quite recent years. The Buckhouts turned the ice boat into the ice yacht, refined and perfected their basic sloop-rigged design until their products completely swept the field. In so doing, they swept the lateen rig, which had benefited from no such refinement, into the discard. Had the Buckhouts worked on either the cat or the lateen with similar persistence, they would, without a doubt, have arrived at the highly successful cat-rigged type now almost universal in Europe; an extremely light, hollow mast and Marconi rig to cut down nose-weight, and an exceptionally long backbone, extending several feet abaft the main boom, to keep the rudder on the ice and minimize spinning. But they stuck to the sloop, which thereafter remained the accepted rig until that fatal day when some “crazy Westerner" stuck a cat rig onto a reverse-English hull that steered from the front like Sister Susie’s tricycle — and, zowie! the apple cart was not only upside down — it was demolished.

When the wind is light, the larger boats carry enough sail to get them going, and speeds are not so great that skin friction and form resistance on hull and spars are major retarding factors. Hence, the big ones should — and do — win the races when the breeze is light. But, when it breezes up, the smallest racing class of all can — and does — show a clean pair of heels (and a taut, unflapping sail) to her bigger sisters handicapped by too much canvas. Even if they don smaller sails, they cannot hide their larger and bulkier hulls, or their taller masts, with resultant greater resistance, and the little ones gaily zip around and pass them with maddening consistency. 

A most interesting case in point was this year’s Open Championship of the Eastern Ice Yachting Association. (This race is a contest between the winning boats from each of six sail area classes, ranging from the 75-square feet “Skeeters” up to the 350-square feet Class A boats.) It started in a medium light breeze, which turned out to be only a temporary lull in a howling northwester. The big boat skippers started off in fine style, the three largest boats immediately walking away from the little fellows. And then the gale came back! All the boats started to go faster but the big ones were immediately in trouble; too much canvas. The only recourse was to luff, which they did, with a will, and managed to stay right side up. But what of the “BE” boat? No luffing there! She started out after the leaders like a shot out of a gun. She caught and passed all but one — and the skipper of that one can speak with feeling when he says that it was a steadily losing fight. 

And so we come to the end of this first powwow on ice boats, with a picture of the ice boat of the future gradually forming in our minds:

Rig: Cat (until someone works out a narrow, rigid jib that can be controlled by a mechanical device like a greenhouse window rig).

Type: Bow-steering (until the built-in contradictory forces of the stern-steerer can be eliminated by improved design or until the four-runner boat comes into her own).

Backbone: Long and relatively heavy.

Size: As small as possible, for strong winds — probably not over 175 square feet (Class C) in any case.

Shape of sail: Tall, narrow (2 to 1), and as smooth of surface texture as can possibly be obtained. Also, rigidly and stiffly arched into the proper airfoil curvature, either by full length battens in cloth sails, or by properties of the sail itself if we can get to metal or plywood sails. 
​(To Be Continued) Ray Ruge

Editor's Note: This article by Raymond A. Ruge is reproduced from the December 1936 issue of  Yachting​ magazine. The language, spelling and grammar of the article reflects the time period when it was written. For information about current ice boating on the Hudson River go to White Wings and Black Ice here.  ​

In spite of all the progress toward efficiency and speed made in sailing yachts, the ice boat, the fastest non-motorized vehicle known to man, has remained until very recently the slave of convention and tradition. Improvements in materials, sails, runners, rigging and construction details followed one another in steady progression, but in her fundamental design, the ice boat of 1930 was the ice boat of 1870 — and she still retained the devilish habit of spinning. There was no escaping the tendency to depress the bow and lift the stern whenever a hard puff struck the sails. This inevitable result of the action of the forces driving her is familiar to all small boat sailors. In a sail boat, with her rudder buried deep in the water, it is not particularly annoying. But let an ice boat's rudder be lifted the slightest fraction of an inch and it loses its already precarious grip on the glassy surface, and away she goes, in a cloud of ice slivers and a roar of grinding runners, around and around in a double or even triple spin, completely out of control. At a speed of sixty to seventy miles an hour, which is common enough, and with a competitor driving hard only a few feet astern, the possibility of a nasty crack-up is not hard to imagine. 

​Once the simplicity of this, and the beautiful self-compensating relation of wind pressure to rudder-on-ice pressure, dawns on you, it seems too good to be true. While it is difficult to assign the exact credit for this brilliant solution of the ice boat's one great fault, it is safe to attribute the development and perfection of the bow-steerer to the famous Meyer Brothers, of Wisconsin. They built and raced the renowned Paula series of ice yachts, all champions but all experimental, each one eliminating certain faults found in her predecessor.

​As a result, the bow-steerer is now as safe as she is fast, and ice yachting is coming into its own all over the northern part of the country. For the bow-steerer won't spin. Her pilot need not ease her through the puffs — he can hold his sheets and let her go — and the fact that bow-steerers everywhere are consistently defeating older boats of far greater sail area is sufficient proof that she can go.
​
Convinced by the logic of this analysis of spinning, and of the bow-steerer as the solution, during the fall of 1925 I constructed Icicle. She carried the rig of my 18-foot one-design sail boat - about 190 square feet, in a conventional jib and mainsail. A club was added to the foot of the jib, both to keep it flat and to simplify the jib sheet. By using a club, a single sheet working on a traveler makes the jib practically self-tending, a necessary feature where the main sheet and steering wheel require constant attention.

The rig of almost any small sloop can be used on an ice boat if provision is made for the heavier wind stresses involved. Wintry blasts are heavier, faster and harder-hitting than summer breezes. Sails which have been discarded because they have stretched and lost their precious draft are just the ones to use on your ice boat for, contrary to sail boat practice, the rule here is ”the flatter, the faster.”

Icicle has a fuselage, or body, made of light frames and ribs, covered with unbleached muslin to which was applied airplane "dope™ and aluminum paint. This superstructure serves merely as a shield from the biting wind and is built around the traditional central backbone timber, made of an 18-foot 4" x 6" to which was bolted a 16-foot 4" × 4", over- hanging 6 feet aft. This composite timber rides on edge, with the 4" x6" below and toward the bow. The runner plank crosses under the extreme after end of the 18-foot lower member. The mast is stepped directly on the backbone, passing through a hole in the cloth deck which also admits the main and jib sheets to the cockpit, where they are controlled by jam cleats. The backbone also carries the steering gear and all fastenings for frame guys, so that the cloth super-structure is subjected to no stresses except those caused by wind pressure. This permits a comfortable, protected riding position, automobile steering, and a side-by-side arrangement of the two seats, all of which tend to increase the pleasure and reduce the discomfort of a day's fast sailing.

The runner plank shown embodies the latest improvements in design. First of all, those familiar with past practice will note the unusual length of the plank for the sail area carried. This serves two purposes; it prevents excessive hiking and makes for easy riding, both of which are aids to speed. By using waterproof casein glue, a laminated arched plank, light in weight and springy in action, is easy to make. The second departure from older practice lies in the extra foot of plank projecting beyond the runners. This carries on its underside a smooth, rounded oak sliding block which comes in contact with the ice when the boat hikes very high and allows her to slip sideways and come down right side up rather than capsize.

A good runner plank is essentially a broad, flat wooden spring. A stiff plank means a slower boat. The runner plank is fastened to the backbone by two pieces of 2-1/2" x 2-1/2" angle iron, drilled for bolts through the side rails and plank. A block of rubber under the bearing surfaces will absorb some of the shock when passing over rough ice.
 
The most vital parts of any ice boat, where the right thing is the only thing, are the runners. There are many types of runners in use, but the oldest is still one of the most satisfactory and may be sometimes acquired in good condition second, third, and even fourth-hand. This type of runner consists of an oak top piece to which is bolted a cast iron or steel shoe, sharpened to a "V" edge. It is in the subtle but all important rocker of the shoe and the correct angle of the ice faces, or the two sides of the "V," that the fast runner differs from the slow one. For an all-purpose runner, which will carry the boat through soft ice and slush as well as over hard, black ice, the faces of the shoe, called "ice faces." should meet at about 90° and be from ½" to ¾" wide.
 
The rudder is a shorter edition of the main runners but has little rocker. The rudder must be kept sharp for, if it skids, control of the fast-moving craft is, at best, sketchy. After the runners are mounted, oil the inside faces of the chocks, next to the runners. This is one spot that must not be varnished or painted. Graphite is often smeared over these faces to help the runner rock freely. Keep the runner shoes greased to prevent rusting; when leaving the boat for a protracted interval, it is well to remove the runners entirely and keep them at home, along with the sails, where they will be dry and safe from inquisitive skaters.
 
Allowing $40.00 for new runners, and the same amount for a fair suit of sails, the materials for this boat should total about $120. The yachtsman who has a sail boat with a suitable rig and the usual assortment of odd rigging, turnbuckles, blocks, etc., can cut the necessary outlay down to $75. Clear spruce is the lightest and best material for the spars, runner plank and back-bone; fir is second choice. Fir is easier to get and is cheaper but is apt to be heavy. Runner tops, chocks and knees are of quartered white oak. Plywood 3/8" thick is ideal for deck and bottom of back-bone. A few oak slats passing under the plywood floor from rail to rail will stiffen it sufficiently under the cockpit.
 
A boat of this type can be transported easily by trailer, and two men can set her up in an hour, provided that this has been already completely done at home before taking the boat to the ice. It is hoped that the success of the adapted sail boat rig may encourage other yachtsmen to build ice boats to carry the rigs of their sail boats. The most active ice boating centers in the East are all within fifty miles of New York and can be reached by car in a couple of hours. I know I can speak for the ice boating fraternity in assuring all of you a most cordial welcome to this king of winter sports.

Editor’s Note:  During the fall of 1925, Ray Ruge, at age 17, constructed the Icicle. 

Hiding away in Rondout Creek, New York at 41.91245, -73.98639 is the last known surviving example of a World War I Navy ‘Oil & Coal’ Barge. 

It is less than a kilometer up the Rondout Creek from the Hudson River Maritime Museum.
Based on a lot of ‘Googling’, it seems probable this is the first time that the provenance and history of this particular relic of concrete shipbuilding in the United States during the World War I era has been recognized. [Editor's Note: The concrete barge is featured on the Solaris tours of Rondout Creek.]
​
The hulk is, in fact, the initial prototype of a ‘Navy Department Coal Barge’, concrete barges that were commissioned by the Navy Department : Bureau of Construction and Repair. This was the department of the U.S. Navy that was responsible for supervising the design, construction, conversion, procurement, maintenance, and repair of ships and other craft for the Navy.

​Launched on 1st June 1918, the ‘Directory of Vessels chartered by Naval Districts’ lists ‘Concrete Barge No.1’, Registration number 2531, as being chartered by the Navy from Louis L. Brown at $360 per month from 11th September 1918. 
In Spring 1918, the Navy Department had commissioned twelve, 500 Gross Registered Tonnage barges from three separate constructors in Spring 1918 to be used in New York harbour. 

Editor's Note: As mentioned in the 6/30/2023 blog, “Ice Yachting Winter Sailboats Hit More Than 100 m.p.h. by John A. Carroll, The Detroit Ice Yachting Club has fostered one of the more exclusive organizations in the world - the Hell Divers. To be eligible, a yachtsman merely has to take the plunge and survive to tell the story.”  It appears that Raleigh became a Hell Diver by his harrowing experience. 

To learn more about the fishermen who created the circles on the ice, go to New York Heritage HRMM Commercial Fishermen oral histories here.

SPOONING PARTIES.
How These Commendable Aids to Matrimony Should Be Conducted.
“Spooning” parties are popular in some quarters. They take their name from a good old English word which was intended to ridicule the alleged fantastic actions of a young man or a young woman who is in love. For some reason, which no one ever could explain, everybody pokes fun at the lover. In fact, that unhappy character is never heroic in real life, no matter what great gobs of heroism are piled about him on the stage, and in all the romantic story books. The girl in love and the boy in love are said to be “spoony.”

When a “spooning" party is given, the committee in charge of the event receives a spoon from each person who attends, or else presents each guest with a spoon. These spoons are fancifully dressed in male and female attire, and are mated either by the similarity of costume or by a distinguishing ribbon. The girls and boys whose spoons are mates are expected to take care of each other during the continuance of the social gathering.

Of course the distribution of the spoons is made with the greatest possible carefulness, the aim being to so place them as to properly fit the case of the young people to whom they are presented. The parties are usually given by the young people of some neighborhood where the personal preference of each spoony is well known, and they are the source of no end of fun. It is possible also that they serve as aids to matrimony as well, and are therefore commendable, since an avowal is made more easy to a diffident swain after he feels that his passion is not a secret, but that his weakness for a ‘‘spoony'’ maiden is known to his friends and enemies on the committee which dispenses the spoons. It may be mentioned that after the spoons have been distributed among the guests, each couple retires for consultation regarding the reasons which caused the award of mated spoons in their case. This consultation is known by the name of "spooning.’’--St. Louis Republic .via The Yonkers Herald, June 24, 1895

“Don't love in Gotham--
You've got no place to go;
You can't hide in the subway
Or on the roofs, you know!
The cop that's on the corner
Has got his eye on you--
Don't love in Gotham--
You'll be ‘pinched’ if you do!"
 
SO sang Tom Masson—or, in words to that effect—some ten years ago, but the tragi-comic warning is just ten times as true this summer. For one of the problems of 1920 in merry old Manhattan is the H. C. of L., which in this connection should be translated the High Cost of Loving!

Cupid knows it always has been a dilemma for New Yorkers. In all the side streets, east or west, there isn’t a piazza with rambler roses curtaining it and a hammock swung across one comer, there isn't a circular seat built around a drooping elm or broad spreading maple, there isn't a lovers' lane or a Ben Bolt “nook by a cool running brook.” No got. No can do.
But now courting must be conducted between the devil of the profiteering landlord and the deep sea of propriety. For the simple truth is that almost no New Yorker can afford have a parlor for his daughter's beaux, that daughter herself can't find a house with a parlor in it, if she ls boarding. The rent laws passed at Albany do not prevent anybody from ejecting Cupid. And he is quite literally put out on the sidewalk—or into the park.

The easiest way for the “new poor” —the thousands with stationary salaries—to pay their rent is simply to let an outsider pay rent for that extra room, once the courting parlor. The tenements long ago learned to use the “roomer" to cope with the landlord. The flats and apartments are profiting by the lesson. As for the boarding-house landladies, who can blame those harassed women for filing every room under their roofs to help pay the butcher and the baker?

President Hibben of Princeton was complaining recently about the frankness and lack of reserve between the young men and women of to-day, but even these candid souls have not reached the point where they'll do their courting in the bosom of their families. If the parlor and solitude a deux is not for them, then neither is the family living room!

Hence it is that there never were so many spooners in Central Park as there are to-day—I mean to-night. Every bench is a kissing bench. And the rush is such that two loving couples often are forced to seek accommodations on the same bench! Not even the rain drives them off. When it pours too hard they simply seek refuge in the tunnels. The Park cops are being worn out by their job as civic chaperones [sic]; the Park squirrels, from being interested, and then shocked, are now merely bored.

And the deep sea of propriety is much vexed. “How can nice girls make love so publicly!” indignantly exclaim the old maids of either sex. "Nothing like that goes with us," declares the Hudson River Day Line, or, to quote exactly its recent announcement, “All spooning is tabooed from the decks of the boats. We request that the conduct of the young people shall be above criticism. The young women can help largely to control the situation.”

Maybe they can—if they take Mr. Masson's advice and "don't love in Gotham.” But if a nice young clerk is so ill advised as to fall in love with a nice young stenographer, will you tell me just how they can do their courting?

He can't “say it with flowers.” Theatre tickets, candy—nice candy. There articles are in the luxury class, nowadays, even for ardent lovers. She has no parlor in which she can receive him. They can't afford to go to a decent restaurant and buy enough lemonades, after dinner, to give them the privilege of spending the evening there.

There remain the park, the seat on top of the bus, the Coney Island boat —public enough, heaven knows, but at least populated by strangers and not by a too observant family. There is also the sapient scheme of the rookie who took his girl to the Pennsylvania Station, rushed to the gate with her when a train was announced, bade her a fond, an osculatory farewell—then sneaked back to the waiting room and encored the performance when the gates were opened for the next departing train and the next and the next!

Who knows but the much criticized cheek-to-check dancing is not merely a pathetic attempt to make love in the face of a cold and hostile world? “Romance is dead, but all unseen romance jazzed up at nine-fifteen, to paraphrase Mr. Kipling.
​​
But don't let anybody think he has solved the housing problem until he brings back the beau parlor or gives us a just-as-good substitute. From the New York Evening World, July 14, 1920

DAY LINE TABOOS SPOONING - Hudson Boats to Have Community Song Services.

Beginning yesterday, “spooning" was tabooed on the boats of the Hudson River Day Line. Thousands of circulars will be distributed today setting forth the new "directions" of Ebon E. Olcott, the President.

"We have said many times that some share of the comfort and enjoyment of the Sunday boat rides rests with each and every one on board.” says the circular. "Will you help us make the memory of these trips wholesome and full of enjoyment? We request that the conduct of the young people shall be above criticism. ... ." 

There will be a "community service" on the boats each Sunday and a religious service at Pavilion No. 2, at Bear Mountain.  From The New York Times, June 13, 1920.

Find a summary of this topic here. 

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. This article was originally published ​ December 30, 1973.

Fog, that natural phenomenon so prevalent on the river in the fall and spring when the seasons change, has constantly been a problem to boatmen.  Obviously, there is always the danger of collision or grounding.

Today, the electronic marvel of radar has done much to lessen the danger of the boatmen’s old foe.  Prior to World War II, however, there was no radar.  Then, the boatmen had nothing to rely upon except their boat’s compass, the echo of their boat’s whistle off the river bank, and their own knowledge of the river with all its tricks of tide, wind and twisting-channels.  Few people on shore, unless they at one time had worked on the river, ever realized how extensive and uncanny this knowledge was. 

Years ago, probably the best men on the river in fog were the captains and pilots of the Cornell Steamboat Company’s big tugboats - the tugs that pulled the big tows of that era, sometimes with as many as 50 or 60 barges and scows in a tow.  They had to be good.  A steamboat pilot could almost always anchor.  But on the big tugs, when the fog would close in with the tide underfoot with a big tow strung out astern and no room to round up and head into the tide, they had no choice but to keep going.  

One time, back around 1930, there was a company in New York harbor that specialized in the towing of oil barges.  Their tugs would push oil barges up the Hudson River and through the New York Barge Canal to cities like Utica, Syracuse and Buffalo. 

One day one of their tugboats was pushing an oil barge up the river, destined for Buffalo, when off Tarrytown it began to get very foggy.  At the time they were overtaking a big Cornell tow in charge of the tug "J. C. Hartt.” As the fog was getting thicker, the captain of the small tug pushing the oil barge went up to the tail end of the Cornell tow and put a line from the oil barge on to the last barge in the ‘‘Hartt’s” tow.  He held on until the fog cleared up near Bear Mountain and then let go and went on his way. 

About two weeks later, when the canal tug and its oil barge got back to New York, the tug captain’s boss came down to the dock and said, “Cap, were you holding on a Cornell tow about two weeks ago?” The tug captain was sort of flustered and sputtered, "Why, why when?”

“Well,” replied the boss, “we've got a bill from Cornell here for $65 for towing from Tarrytown to Bear Mountain,” and he then mentioned the times and the date. 

The oil barge tug’s captain knew his boss had the goods on him, so all he could say was, “Yes, that’s right.  I was caught in fog off Tarrytown when they were going by.  And you know those Cornell men know the river in fog better than anybody.  I knew I'd be safe hanging on and sailing along with them. 

The boss said, “Well, I guess we'll have to pay it, but don't do it again.”

I am sure many other canal tugs did the same thing, some getting away with it and some not.  As they used to say along the river, the men on Cornell's steady pullers were the best compasses on the river. 

Now, those able boatmen, men like Ira Cooper, Al Hamilton, Ben Hoff, Sr., Jim Monahan, John Sheehan, Jim Dee, Albert Van Woert, John Cullen, Dan McDonald, Barney McGooey, Larry Gibbons, Howard Palmatier and a host of others, have long since steered their last tugboat through a fog.  And those big, powerful steady pullers, tugboats like the “J. C. Hartt,” “Geo. W. Washburn,” "John H. Cordts,” “Edwin H. Mead,” “Pocahontas,” “Osceola” and “Perseverance” have all towed their final flotilla of scows and barges.  Gone forever are the big tugboats with their red and yellow paneled deck houses and towering black smokestacks with their chrome yellow bases. 
​
The only thing that remains constant is the River with its changing tides.  And the fogs of spring and autumn.

Editor's Note: This article, "'Companionship and a Little Fun': Investigating Working Women’s Leisure Aboard a Hudson River Steamboat, July 1919," written by Austin Gallas and published in Lateral 11.2 (2022). https://csalateral.org/issue/11-2/companionship-and-a-little-fun-investigating-working-women-leisure-hudson-river-steamboat-1919-gallas/#:~:text=The%20investigator's%20written%20account%20offers,Hudson%2C%20and%20how%20Progressive%20reformers​

​Article Abstract: This article provides an in-depth consideration of a single report penned on the night of July 27, 1919 by a private detective employed by New York City's Committee of Fourteen (1905-1932), an influential anti-vice and police reform organization. A close reading of the undercover sleuth's account, which details his experiences, subjective judgments, and general observations regarding moral and social conditions while aboard the "Benjamin B. Odell", a palatial Hudson River steamboat enables us to enrich our grasp of the courtship and pleasure-seeking practices popular among working women and men active in New York City's heterosocial and largely segregated amusement landscape during the so-called "Red Summer". Specifically, the report reveals how wage-earning women articulated femininity and sought individual freedoms, companionship, pleasure and romance via Hudson River steamboat excursions.

                                                                  Daniel Drew
               
The “Daniel Drew” was another of the wooden-hull vessels constructed by Thomas Collyer of New York city, built in 1860, with a hull measuring 224 feet The engine of the “Daniel Drew” was from the steamboat “Titan.”
               
On June 5, 1860, the “Daniel Drew” appeared on the Hudson river and was placed in regular service between New York and Albany. She was an exceptionally fast vessel, making one run in October of the same year, of six hours and 31 minutes traveling up the river and making nine landings. She was a very narrow boat when she first appeared on the river and was at times rather cranky, but this factor was one of the reasons for her ability to attain such high speed. In 1862 she was widened five feet.
               
James Collyer and other boatmen controlled the “Daniel Drew” until September 25, 1863 when she was sold to Alfred Van Santvoord and another group of steamboat men. On October 7 of the same year, Van Santvoord and company also purchased the “Armenia,” and so was laid the foundation of the present Hudson River Dayline. In 1864 the “Chauncey Vibbard” was built to run as a consort to the “Daniel Drew,” and then the “Armenia” was used as a spare boat and for occasional excursions.
               
For many years the “Daniel Drew” and “Chauncey Vibbard” plied the waters of the Hudson river on regular schedule, and then it became necessary to have a new boat. The “Albany” was then placed in service on July 2, 1880, and the “Chauncey Vibbard” was retained to run as the new boat’s consort. The “Daniel Drew” was placed in reserve and the “Armenia” was sold for service on the Potomac river where she was destroyed by fire in 1886.
               
On a Sunday afternoon, August 9, 1886, as the “Daniel Drew” was laying at Kingston Point, she caught fire from the engine house of the Delaware and Hudson Canal Company and was totally destroyed. Thus ended the career of another of the famous steamboats of the Hudson river.

New York Times - 1860-02-15 page 8
Bloody Affray on the Ice at Port Ewen. - TWO MEN KILLED, ONE FATALLY WOUNDED, AND ANOTHER BADLY HURT.
Great excitement has existed in and around Port Ewen, Ulster County, during the last two or three days, in consequence of a shocking and bloody affray which occurred on the ice opposite that village on Saturday afternoon last, [Feb. 11, 1860] about 3 o’clock.

The facts are as follows: Two brothers, named RILYEA, with a friend, all residing at Esopus, Ulster County, were sailing in an ice-boat on the river on Saturday afternoon.  After amusing themselves for sometime, they fastened the boat to the dock at Port Ewen, and went into a tavern to drink.  While there, three Irishmen took possession of the boat, loosed it from the dock, and sailed to the middle of the river, where they were observed by one of the brothers, who instantly went to them demanded the boat.  The Irishmen refused to surrender it, and angry words ensued.  During the altercation, young RILYEA unfastened the tiller and threatened to drive out the occupants of the boat.

Upon this, one of the Irishmen drew knife from his pocket and stabbed the unfortunate [22 year old] youth in the heart, inflicting a fatal wound.  The remaining brother and his friend witnessed the transaction from the shore and immediately started for the scene of the affray.  Before they arrived at the boat, however, they came to the place where the elder RILYEA lay, and seeing that he was dying, rushed towards the boat to take revenge.  After a short fight, one of the Irishmen seized the tiller and struck the friend of the brother a severe blow upon the head, which felled him senseless, [cracked his scull and lead to his demise].  HIRAM RILYEA then repaired to the tavern where he procured a pistol, and returning to the boat, shot one of the Irishmen, killing him instantly.  He then turned and [despite being badly hurt,] ran for the shore in the direction of Rondout, followed by the remaining Irishmen, where he arrived in advance of them, and instantly gave himself up to the authorities.  The brothers RILYEA were 20 and 22 years of age respectively.  The one who was killed was buried on Sunday.  Both the offenders have been arrested.
 
New York Times, Feb. 17, 1860, Page 5
The Grand Jury of Ulster County, which has been for several days in session at Kingston, adjourned on Wednesday, after having disposed of about thirty cases, in various forms. The most important of them was the affair at Port Ewen, which took place on Saturday last. The case, as laid before the Grand Jury, differs essentially from the reports formerly printed, and is substantially thus:

On Saturday morning, two brothers, named HIRAM and JEREMIAH RELYEA [sic], with a friend, JOHN SLATER, while cruising down the river on the ice, with an iceboat, landed at Port Ewen, a small village, inhabited  mainly by Irish, employes of the Delaware and Hudson Canal  Company.  It seems that HIRAM RELYEA and SLATER proceeded some distance back of the village, while JEREMIAH remained to take charge of the boat.
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While thus engaged he was surrounded by a gang of ruffians of the place, was terribly beaten and obliged to flee for his life.  Thus matters stood until about 5 o'clock P. M., when Hiram and Slater returned to take the boat, when they were also attacked by the gang, and being surrounded upon all sides were obliged to fight for their lives.  At this juncture RELYEA and SLATER endeavored to take refuge between two canal boats near by, but were still more closely pursued, and RELYEA was felled to the ground by a heavy blow from MARTIN SILK.  Instantly springing to his feet, he discharged a pistol at SILK, the ball of which passed through the heart of his assailant, killing him instantly.  RELYEA immediately fled  toward Rondout, about a mile distant, pursued by a crowd of over a hundred infuriated Irishmen.  When he reached the village he was covered with blood, and his clothes nearly torn from him by the crowd.  He immediately gave himself up to the authorities. A scene of the greatest excitement prevailed in Rondout, and for a time it was with difficulty that a serious riot between the canal men and the citizens was prevented.  Both HIRAM and JEREMIAH RELYEA now lie in a critical condition.  Doubts are entertained of the recovery of the latter.  Coroner DUBOIS on Saturday proceeded to hold an inquest on the body of SILK, who, with the jury impaneled, after much opposition by the friends of deceased, found a verdict in accordance with the above facts.  The Grand Jury on Tuesday refused to find a bill against HIRAM RELYEA, on the charge of killing MARTIN SILK, admitting the ground of self-defence. Indictments were found against PATRICK KINNY, TOBIAS BUTLER, PATRICK MORAN, and some six other rioters, charged with “assault with intent to kill.”  Warrants were issued, and those named have been arrested.
 
1860-02-17 New York Daily Herald Iceboat Affray - The Tragedy on the Ice at Port Ewen.
ADDITIONAL PARTICULARS —SPEEDY JUSTICE BY THE GRAND JURY OF ULSTER COUNTY.
The Grand Jury of Ulster county, which for several days past has been in session at Kingston, adjourned on Wednesday, after having disposed of some thirty cases, the most important of which however, was the affair which took place at Port Ewen, about three miles south of Kingston, on Saturday last.  The case was laid before the Grand Jury on Tuesday, at which time the true facts in the same appeared, and are in substance as follows:

On Saturday morning last two brothers, Hiram and Jeremiah Relyea, together with a friend, John Slater, while cruising down the river on the ice in an ice boat, landed at Port Ewen, a small village, populated for the most part by Irishmen employed on the Delaware and Hudson Canal, which has its terminus at that point, and a community bearing no favorable reputation.  It seems that Jeremiah Relyea and Slater proceeded some distance back of the village, while Hiram remained to take charge of the boat.  While thus engaged he was surrounded by a crowd of ruffians—representatives of the village—and Relyea was severely beaten and driven away.  Thus matters stood until about five o'clock in the afternoon, when Jeremiah and Slater returned to take the boat, &., when they were also attacked, and, being surrounded upon all sides, were obliged to fight for their lives.  At this juncture, Relyea and Slater endeavored to take refuge between two canal boats near by, but were still closer pursued, and [Hiram] Relyea was felled to the ground by a heavy blow from Martin Silk.  Instantly springing to his feet, he discharged a pistol at Silk, which took effect, the ball passing through the heart, killing him instantly.  Relyea immediately fled towards Rondout, about a mile distant, pursued by a crowd of over a hundred infuriated Irishmen, which place he, however, reached, covered with blood and his clothes nearly torn from him by the mob.  He instantly gave himself up to the authorities.  A scene of the greatest excitement prevailed in the village, and for a time it was with difficulty that a serious riot between the Irish canal men and the citizens was prevented.  Both Hiram and Jeremiah Relyea now lay in a very critical condition, and doubts are entertained of the recovery of the latter.  Coroner Dubois on Saturday proceeded to hold an inquest on the body of Silk, who, with the jury empannelled [sic], after much opposition by the friends of deceased, found a verdict in accordance with the facts as stated.  The Grand Jury, at Kingston, on Tuesday acquitted Hiram Relyea on the charge of killing Martin Silk, upon the grounds of self defence.  It further found bills of indictment against Pat Kinney, Tobias Butler, Pat Moran and some six others on the charge of ‘‘assault with intent to kill."  Warrants were issued for their arrest, and those named are now in jail.

 
A Trip On The Delaware & Hudson Canal To Carbondale.
New York, August 2d, 1830.
           
Mr. Croswell -- I perceive by the paper, that a packet boat commences this day, to run regularly for the remainder of the season, on the Delaware and Hudson canal.  Among the pleasant and healthy tours that are now sought after, I would strongly recommend a trip on that canal.  It leads from Bolton, on the waters of the Hudson and Kingston Landing; to Carbondale on the Lackawanna, which falls into the Susquehanna.  I had the satisfaction not long since to visit that country, and I was delighted with the beauty and grandeur of the scenery, and the noble exhibition of skill, enterprize and rising prosperity, which were displayed throughout the course of that excursion.
           
This great canal, though seated in the heart of the state, seems to be almost unknown to the mass of our tourists.  Its character, execution and utility, richly merit a better acquaintance.  It commences at Eddyville, two miles above Kingston, and we ascend a south-west course along the romantic valley of the Rondout, and through a rich agricultural country in Ulster county, which has been settled and cultivated for above a century.  the Shawangunk range of mountains hangs on our left; and as we attain a summit level at Phillips or Lock Port, 35 miles from the commencement of the canal, after having passed through 54 lift-locks, extremely well made of hammered stone laid in hydraulic cement.  The elevation here is 535 feet above tide water at Bolton, and the canal on this summit level of 16 miles, is fed principally by the abundant waters of the Neversink, over which river the canal passes in a stone aqueduct of 324 feet in length; and descends through 6 locks to Port Jervis, at the junction of the Neversink and Delaware rivers, and 59 miles from the landing.  The canal here changes its course to the north-west, and ascends the left bank of the majestic Delaware, through a mountainous and wild region, to the mouth of the Laxawaxen [sic], at the distance of 22 miles from Port Jervis.  In this short course the canal is mostly fed by the large stream of the Mongauss, which it crosses, and in several places and for considerable distances, it is raised from the edge of the bed of the Delaware, upon walls of neat and excellent masonry, and winds along in the most bold and picturesque style, under the lofty and perpendicular sides of the mountains.  the Neversink, the Mongauss, the Lackawaxen [sic] and the Delaware were all swollen by the heavy rains when I visited the canal, and they served not only to test the solidity of the work, and the judgment with which it was planted, but to add greatly to the magnificence of the scenery.
           
At the mouth of the Lackawaxen we crossed the Delaware upon the waters of a dam thrown across it, and entered the state of Pennsylvania, and ascended the Lackawaxen, through a mountainous region the farther distance of 25 miles to Honesdale, where the canal terminates.  This new, rising and beautiful village, is situated at the junction of the Lackawaxen and Dyberry streams, and is so named out of respect to Philip Hone, Esq. of New York, who has richly merited the honor by his early, constant and most efficient patronage of the great enterprize of the canal.
           
The village is upwards of 1000 feet above tide water at Bolton, and at the distance of 103 miles according to the course of the canal.  There are 103 lift and two guard locks in that distance, and the supervision of the locks and canal, by means of agents or overseers in the service of the company, and who have short sections of the canal allotted to each, appeared to me to be vigilant, judicious and economical.  The canal and locks, by means of incessant attention, are sure to be kept in a sound state and in the utmost order.  The plan and execution of the canal are equally calculated to strike the observer with surprise and admiration.  He cannot but be deeply impressed, when he considers the enterprising and gigantic nature of the undertaking, the difficulties which the company had to encounter, and the complete success with which those difficulties have been surmounted.  This is the effort of a private company; and when we reflect on the nature of the ground, and the character and style of the work, we can hardly fail to pronounce it a more enterprising achievement than that of the Erie Canal.  I hope and trust it may be equally successful.  We found the most busy activity on the canal, and it was enlivened throughout its course by canal boats, (of which there were upwards of 150) employed in transporting coal down to the Hudson.
           
At Honesdale a new and curious scene opens.  Here the rail-way commences, and it ascends to a summit level of perhaps 850 feet on its way to Carbondale, a distance of 16 miles and upwards.  It terminates in the coal beds on the waters of the Lackawanna, at the thriving village of Carbondale.  The rail-way, is built of timber, with iron slates fastened to the timber rails with screws, and in ascending the elevations and levels, the coat cars are drawn up and let down by means of stationary steam-engines, and three self-acting or gravitating engines moving without steam.  Nothing will more astonish and delight a person not familiar with such things, than a ride on this rail-way in one of the cars.  A single horse will draw 16 loaded cars in most places, and in one part of the distance for five miles the descent is sufficient to move the loaded cars by their own weight.  A line of ten or a dozen loaded cars, moving with any degree of velocity that may be required, and with their speed perfectly under the command of the guide or pilot, is a very interesting spectacle.
           
I don't pretend to skill or science on the subject to canals, rail-ways and anthracite coal.  I speak only of what I saw and of the impressions which were made upon my mind.  It appears to me that all persons of taste and patrons of merits, whose feelings are capable of elevation in the presence of grand natural scenery, and whose patriotism can be kindled by the accumulated displays of their country's prosperity, would be glad of an opportunity to see these beauties of nature and triumphs of art to which I have alluded.
 "A Trip On The Delaware & Hudson Canal To Carbondale."  Register of Pennsylvania. August 14, 1830. 111—112.
1830-08-02 -- A Trip on the Delaware & Hudson Canal to Carbondale