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Forecast for the morning after the Oscars was for some sun, which I sorely needed. And who’s out . . . William Oscar aka W. O. Decker, for starters.
CCNI Aquiles and Dallas Express at Global . . . and a Moose boat racing toward us.
I couldn’t quite figure out what Sorensen Miller‘s load was. In the background, that’s the Newark Bay Bridge, which doesn’t make it on my fotos much.
Virginia Sue was fishing off Clermont.
John P. Brown moved nine (?) railcars from Brooklyn to Jersey.
Clipper Legacy arrived here yesterday.
Shawn Miller‘s pushing trucks around again, this one all ready for the mid-March holiday.
Taurus light moves past Christine McAllister.
And . . . let’s conclude with another shot of William Oscar, wherever it may be heading.
All fotos this morning before the clouds moved in . . . by Will Van Dorp.
So after work today, I went looking for evidence that New Yorkers celebrate mardi gras. I saw this instead . . . seal?
Not! Unless seals these days carry flashlights and trail markers and have a support
vessels like Linda Ann, herself supported by W. O. Decker and Peking.
Here is one of a series of six posts I did five years ago about Peking, which moved across the bay that day. And half a year back, here‘s a post I did about W. O. Decker and Helen McAllister‘s last waltz. And Wavertree . . . I regret that in my dozen years wandering the sixth boro, Wavertree has not ONCE left the dock. I know some of you must have fotos . . . and good memories of her moves, but I have none.
BUT . . . click here for a mystery vessel with three masts square-rigged in a foto I was given some years back. Anyone want to take a stab at identifying it? The conclusion a few years back is that the foto is “‘shopped,” although it was done some years ago.
My guess is that someone was inspecting Wavertree‘s wet side.
Later I thought I saw a mermaid . . . but I struck out again.
And for the record, after 1700 hr on the E train I finally saw some mardi gras beads . . . worn by a couple going to a party. I had to ask.
All fotos today by Will Van Dorp.
Is Marion M (Greenport, NY 1932) on her own power projecting that potentially gorgeous deck before her? Might she be?
I’ll be straightforward for once: Marion M has been moved away from South Street because the museum needs space. She is for sale. You/your organization can get information on purchasing her by contacting Captain Jonathan Boulware, Waterfront Director, South Street Seaport Museum. His tele and email are: 212.748.8772 jboulware@seany.org.
Some specifics on her history accompany bowsprite’s rendering here. Wooden tugboat W. O. Decker (1930) demonstrates that she has the stuff still in her. Decker stays at South Street Seaport Museum. Here and here are two of my many favorite bowsprite illustrations of Decker.
All these fotos come compliments of Jonathan Boulware, who took them in late June, as
Decker towed Marion M out to
her holding area on the KVK . . . where you can pick her up.
I wanted to add a few more fotos of Helen McAllister . . .
who also has at least one
more life ahead of her. Here’s how she might look under her own power headed your way.
And with all this movement, what might Peking be thinking, saying . .. .?
Uh . . . she can’t talk, can she?
Again, Marion M can be yours. Contact Jonathan Boulware, Waterfront Director, South Street Seaport Museum 212.748.8772 jboulware@seany.org I’m told she’s listed in WoodenBoat‘s “Save a Classic” section, but I haven’t seen that yet.
I’d love to see her gussied up to 1932 standards. I’d even put greenbacks and sweat equity in the project. I’m reminded of what the “crazy farmers of Villiersdorp” managed to do . . . or the Onrust project in Rotterdam Junction.
Unrelated but NYTimes article about resurgence: Cross-harbor rail about to expand exponentially on the sixth boro!!
… of course with boats, the number of “second lives” can astonish you, and (as for “last,”) see the note at the end of the post. Helen’s tenure as “tryin ta be” museum artifact at South Street was more like a fourth life* already!
Anyhow, we knew departure would happen, just not when the day was. But when I happened by minutes after nine this morning and I saw this . . . my plans for the next few hours vanished . . . .
Helen sliding into the stream at the end of Decker‘s towline . . . meant only one thing.
0923 hr . . . Decker heads out to confer with Responder, who has often moved South Street vessels, including Peking four + years ago.
Responder asks Decker to go into the confined space to bring Helen to the dance floor.
Decker (and crew, of course) were thrilled to do this escort.
Long-timers at the Museum–Carlos, Victor, and Sal–get in last moments.
0953 . . . the tow gets made with Responder, and
the lines to Decker get
loosened. Hand-over has happened.
For a short tense interval, the boats exchange sweet somethings, maybe some tears, and then
they waltz away . . . toward a future.
The Statue waves in recognition.
And Decker, as escort, has finished her duties by 1024 hr.
Such beautiful curves, such proud rake! Surely there is another life
for Helen somewhere. John Watson waits high on his cliff to get fotos of the tow heading into the KVK.
Thanks to John Watson for this foto and to Jonathan Boulware for assisting with my fotos.
And I’d really enjoy hearing your comments on any experiences you’ve had in the long life of the beautiful Helen (ex-Georgetown, ex-Admiral Dewey). Does anyone have fotos to share of Helen docking vessels during 1992 OpSail?
“Last” . . . well, many boats have second, third, etc lives. Helen is headed back to the McAllister yard; SSS Museum needs to focus on fewer vessels. What comes next is as unknown as . . . tomorrow.
Related: Here was a previous significant day in SSSM involving major passages with the McAllisters.
* As to Helen’s previous lives, she was built in Port Richmond, Staten Island as Admiral Dewey for Berwind-White Coal; see p. 8 of Erin Urban’s Caddell Dry Dock: 100 Years Harborside for a foto of Admiral Dewey.
Since I woke up this May morning from a dream about attending a meditation session, the logical choice is to start my day writing a post that reflects upon–well–preservation. Two weeks ago I wrote about the Alwyn Vincent project. To quote the site, “she’s finally out,” and on the steel wheels ‘n rails of a synchrolift.
She was getting her “haircut and a shave” even before she stopped moving. When all logistical arrangements converge, the late 1950s tug will travel over-the-road 60 or so miles to its new life, as a functioning steam tug on a freshwater reservoir.
To support the self-described ’Bunch of Crazy Farmers’ (personified by Andy, in orange below) who now own the tug, the Alwyn website says they “selling space for banners of about 1 metre square, at R5 000 ($US 639.30). The advertisements are mostly in connection with agricultural products and services, partly because everybody knows who are responsible for saving this historic vessel! Partly also, it’s because those are the firms we know, support and can ask!”
I suppose they’d accept US sponsors as well; book your space on the hull! Contact Elma on dvijoeningwerke@telkomsa.net
Which brings me to South Street Seaport, and this sight that greeted me two days ago. After at least 20 years of deterioration, work is happening.
Spongy wood was being removed, and
I got my first ever look inside, after 10 years of wondering . . . .
Jim and Glen peeled away tired materials from the 1980s.
Installed inside the windows years ago was this captioning that
told some of the story. A sister vessel–New York Central #16–was saved only to end tragically at the Bourne Bridge rotary in Massachusetts, just six years ago.
The late Don Sutherland told of spending the last night aboard #16 . . . I wish I’d recorded his telling that story. I have recorded Norman Brouwer telling the story of buying this pierside house from #16 from the late John J. Witte, and I hope to share details of that project soon.
Not everything can be preserved . . . On Friday I caught Cheyenne –a current Witte (officially DonJon Marine) tug–heading from the East River into the Upper Bay pushing a load of (I believe) fine scrap, chopped up pieces bound for recycling. Just a week ago, Cheyenne was pushing some preserved vintage jets.
Some valuable artifacts might not be saved much longer unless dreams convert into reality and $$; others like Liemba and Yavari seem to live way beyond their expected lifespans in spite of their being out of the spotlight.
Which brings up this part of a dream: Partners in Preservation is dangling cash $US 3 million, and . . .<<<Tug Pegasus (1907) and Waterfront Museum Barge aka Lehigh Valley 79 (1914) have teamed up in a grant application for $$ for preservation work each vessel needs. As a component of the decision-making about who gets the $$, Partners in Preservation have a “socialmedia-meter” running from now until May 21. To help Pegasus and Lehigh Valley 79 register high on this “meter,” you can do two things from wherever on the planet you may be: 1) befriend them on Facebook and get dozens of your friends to befriend them as well, and 2) vote DAILY here. DAILY! Seems like a crazy way to run an election, but . . . that’s social media and in this case, the cause is worthy.>>>
And later this afternoon–1300–1700h I’ll be down on Pier 25 minding the plank between 79 and Pegasus, as part of Partners in Preservation “open house” weekend.
Thanks to Colin Syndercombe for the Cape Town fotos; all others by Will Van Dorp.
Sort of related, here’s a “tale of two projects” post from about a year ago.
January 1909. New Jersey-built Ambrose LV-87 in second year on the job. Photo by N. L. Stebbins. Click on the next two fotos and you’ll get to their context. Click here for many more Stebbins fotos.
January 1912, a mere 1202 months ago. Ambrose at work with White Star Olympic passing in background. Olympic at this time was less than a year on the job and already suffered one collision. Four months later, of course, her younger sister ship would begin its ill-fated maiden voyage to New York.
I recall seeing this foto before I moved to New York and imagined that “channel 87″ was the means to contact the vessel. Oh well . . . live and learn, eh?
March 2012. Ambrose in her 46th year post-decommissioning after having served the USCG (and precursors) 59 years. Photo by Birk Thomas. In lower right hand corner, that’s Atlantic Salt’s Richmond Terrace mountain.
St. Peter’s neo-Romanesque sanctuary has dominated the east end of the KVK for over a century.
Structure just forward of Ambrose here is Sono’s “postcards,” a 9/11 memorial.
This may be my last post for a while . . . am gallivanting south soon.
Many thanks to Birk for these fotos.
Related: Click here for a Reginald Marsh mural of a black-hulled Ambrose. Here are some crew shots from the late 1950s.
Unrelated: Crossing the Darien isthmus right now is Ever Deluxe, which appeared just barely in this post from almost three years ago . . and NYK Diana, a Howland Hook regular.
Back in December, Ambrose went to the yard for a makeover, and John Watson took these shots.
Today, John got these, mere minutes ago, as they tangoed
Charles D. McAllister and Ambrose,
chico y chica
felizmente
como amantes en la primavera.
Big party is NEXT Monday evening. RSVP!
Many thanks, John.
A year ago I was pessimistic and wrote a bleak post and made this offer. I have now officially passed some benjamins. Last Saturday I went back to the South Street Seaport Museum and the new life excited me. First, there’s this new blog, which I hope continues. My friend John Watson, volunteer at the museum for decades and frequent contributor on tugster, has been responsible for many of the fotos.
Then, of course, volunteer spirit at SSSM has been irrepressible. On Saturday February 18, over two dozen volunteers doing winter maintenance worked on or in four of the vessels at least. A year of idleness has allowed rust to invade everywhere, rust that needs to be busted.
Hammers, chains, power grinders . . . whatever would combine with sweat to prep for rust inhibitor and ultimately new paint was pressed into service. I even set down my camera a few hours and assaulted some areas of rust, just because I enjoyed it.
Leaks were stopped, even if only with temporary fixes for now.
Hatches were sanded and painted.
It’s no simple cliche that rust never sleeps, and big projects like Wavertree require huge infusions of cash and effort to hold off the ravages of time. But the spirit of volunteerism is also indispensible.
This googlemap view shows where all the current museum vessels used to park. Can you name them all? Some may still go to better places.
Ambrose and Lettie G. Howard often docked in the open space here; they are off-site for repair and refurbishing before they return.
What really impressed me was inside Schermerhorn Row. Floor 3 has “Super Models,” ship replicas from the collection, smartly displayed.
It also has “Bottled Up,” miniature vessels in glass. And if you want to see how ships navigate the bottleneck, you can find a display on that too.
Contemporary hand tools are used rust-busting the ships outside, but Floor 4 has “Hand Held Devices,” an installation of scores of historic hand tools, some of
which you might not recognize, but
then there’s an interactive display that can
help with that too.
Floor 5 has “Coffee, Tea, Fish, and the Tattooed Man,” all
tributes to trades that once transacted just outside the building on the docks.
On the way back down, stop again on Floor 3 for a set of Edward Burtynsky‘s stunning fotos of shipbreaking in Bangladesh.
But don’t take my word for any of this. There’s more than I describe here. And more to come . . . like the re-opening of some form of research library . . . . Become a member. Come and visit. Stop by and bust rust. The barge name here describes what’s happening at the Museum.
South Street Seaport is once again
alive! My fotos don’t really do it justice. Bravo to all who made this happen.
Birk took these waterside fotos the better part of a week ago. It took me a while to figure out the “color” of the mushroom anchor at the bow.
Plastic wrap I conclude, but that could be erroneous. Ambrose certainly is full-bodied with a low center of gravity.
For purposes of comparison, I’ve put up the next two shots I took at South Street 25 months ago. While afloat, Ambrose‘s beamy or “jowly” hull cannot be fully appreciated.
From this NPS Maritime Heritage Program link, I learned that Ambrose was launched in 1907 and originally wore straw colored paint–with her name in black–not the white lettering on red hull she’s sported since the 1930s. Oh . . . the folks in the red suits around her in this shot . . . they must belong to some secret society of the Nacirema.
Many thanks to Birk Thomas for the top two fotos.
Just in case you’ve forgotten how Ambrose looked last week, here’s then . . . and
here’s today. These fotos come from John Watson, who has been photographing the sixth boro for almost 40 years! Here are his fotos of Ambrose from late December.
According to John, this bottom is not only more attractive but also less porous. By the way, for whom is the Ambrose Channel named? Also follows.
To my untrained eyes, the prop seems predictably small, given that lightships generally stayed in a single location most of their lives.
If you’re unfamiliar with floating drydocks . . . they are sunk to allow the vessel to enter and position itself inside; then, the dock is deballasted and raised, lifting that vessel high and dry. Check the wiki explanation. Click here to see a submarine launched via a floating drydock. Here’s a video I made about two years back of Pegasus being refloated at the very same facility, Caddell Dry Dock and Repair.
Ambrose may float again later this week.
And the answer to the Ambrose Channel question is . . . John Wolfe Ambrose.
Many thanks to John Watson for these fotos.
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