The carpenter boats were used to transport workers—sometimes as many as fifteen men—who would repair locks, bridges, company-owned houses and stables. Repairing a leak in the canal during operating months was complicated. The carpenters would build a “dam” around the spot, leaving enough room for a boat to pass, and pump the water out before using whatever materials would work to fill the crevice—rocks, straw, leaves—and then the area would be covered with clay. Once the clay hardened, the dam was removed and the water would cover the repaired area while they all kept their fingers crossed that the repair worked.
The men on the flicker boats kept the banks clean. They cut away weeds, bushes and tree branches that could choke the canal and hinder movement of the boats. The flicker operators also filled in holes along the towpath to prevent mules and drivers from breaking an ankle.
“Bank bosses” were responsible for their own sections of the canal, blacksmiths took care of shoes for the mules and repaired tools and objects made of metal used on the boats or at the locks and watchmen took care of the waste gates during heavy storms. All had their part to play, and all contributed to the success of the canal.
The cliffs at the Palisades in the “Narrows” rise abruptly along the river to three hundred feet, leaving very little room for the towpath and canal, but they contribute to the breathtaking scenery along the canal. Courtesy of Historic Langhorne Association.
When the Captains Were Kings
The boatmen made the transport of coal, iron ore, lumber and stone appear easy. But appearances aren’t always what they seem, for each trip was at once backbreaking, dreary, dangerous and tedious. If the inventive geniuses of the newly formed nation were the brains of the American Industrial Revolution, it was the hardworking populace of America who were the backbone and muscle—the miners who dug out the coal, the carpenters who built and maintained the structures and boats, the firemen who worked the furnaces, the men who gripped the shovels to dig the channels and the laborers who laid the rails.
And during the rise of the “navigation revolution,” it was the boat captains who were the kings of the narrow waterways. Their productive efforts during long, tiring days must be recognized as the valuable contribution it was to the economic growth of the country. Without the efficient and safe transportation of coal and other natural resources to the major cities of the East, the Industrial Revolution would have been much slower to evolve.
Each canalboat trip would begin when the boat captain pulled his boat up under the coal chutes at Mauch Chunk. Once his boat was loaded, he would move on to the weigh lock, get his paperwork from the lock tender there and then either continue on to Easton or wait until morning. Canaller Henry Darling said:
We’d tie up at one of the locks for the night. Then get an early start in the morning and be in Easton by 3 p.m., spend the night there, and be in Bristol by noon on the fourth day.63
That was if everything went as expected along the way—no freshets (floods), no mishaps with the mules, no leaks in the canal, no problems at the locks, no holes in the boat.
They would begin their 106-mile trip that day, and when the canal season was over, if they were able to maintain a regular schedule, they would travel a distance of approximately 3,000 miles in that one season—normally lasting 212 days, sometimes more, sometimes less, depending on the weather.
Once in Bristol, if the tide was right, they would unhitch the mules, leave them stabled in Bristol and shove out into the Delaware River, where the tugs would pick them up and tow them to Philadelphia. If they worked for the company, they stayed in Bristol, were given another boat and started back up the canal, and if that was the case, the boatmen didn’t always get a boat of equal quality to the one they had just surrendered. Sometimes the cabins would be infested with bedbugs; sometimes there was less room in the cabin or stoves didn’t work as well as they had on the last boat.
Captain Pearl R. Nye, who had been born on a canalboat and was the fifteenth of eighteen children of an Erie Canalboat captain and his wife, spent much of his life collecting folk songs written about or by canal men. These songs, recorded between 1937 and 1938, are now located in the American Folklife Center at the Library of Congress. They uniquely describe and preserve the life of the nineteenth-century canal families. From one of those songs, “The Old Skipper,” we get a glimpse of how they felt about their work.
There’s tanbark and hoop poles, wet goods, merchandise,
Clay, coal, brick and lumber, cordwood, stone, and ice.
Yes, all that was needed, we boated, dear pal,
Best time of our lives we had on the canal.
I will not be a rover, for I love my boat,
I am happy, contented, yes work, dream and float.
My mules are not hungry, they’re lively and gay,
The plank is pulled on, we are off on our way.64
Boatmen made anywhere from fourteen to twenty dollars a month, and some received around seventy-five cents to a dollar a ton for the coal they delivered. The company deducted 10 percent of their pay, and this money was given to them in January during the inactive winter. They always tried to make the return trip from Bristol to Easton profitable by carrying merchandise that arrived in Bristol’s port for the local residents along the canal. If they were private captains, they paid tolls at several locks along the Delaware Canal. If they worked for the company, their boat number was logged and sent to the company.
A crew of three was required at the beginning of the canal age. In The Whig newspaper, on June 15, 1836, Supervisor Joseph Hough published this notice:
To boatmen on the Delaware Canal
It will hereafter be required for every boat navigating on the Delaware Division Pennsylvania Canal, to have a Steersman and Bowsman on each boat, either descending or ascending said Canal, and also a boy with the tow horse.
That rule didn’t last long once the company ascertained that a crew of two could handle operation of the boat. Having a smaller crew, however, left them more vulnerable to problems that would arise.
Traveling in an open boat along a readily accessible route, with a towpath on one side and a berm on the other and surrounded by deserted farmland for most of the trip, boatmen could be victimized by bandits. There was a canalboat captain named John Reigal who carried a pouch of gold pieces around with him to settle his debts and pay for his provisions. His fellow canal men told him how dangerous this was, but it took quite a while before he was convinced that putting his gold in a bank was safer. Reports of theft along the canal finally persuaded him.
It wasn’t uncommon for people to “rob” coal from the hold when a captain left his boat for some reason, and that would reflect on him when the coal was delivered and weighed. Even some lock tenders would “raid” a boat and sell the extra coal to make some money.
In truth, many boatmen themselves benefited from selling coal along the route, and it was gravely frowned upon by the company, which hired a Pinkerton agent to investigate. The LC&N expected some of the coal on a boat to “disappear” and considered it a hazard of the business. It wasn’t always deliberate on the part of the boatmen; the “shovellers” who took the coal off the boat at the destinations along the way weren’t always very careful, and coal, called “sweepings,” accumulated at the bottom of the hold. Other times, the shovellers were careless on purpose, especially when a bottle of Bushkill whiskey was involved. In 1890, the company hired the Pinkerton Detective Agency to find out who of the boatmen were the worst offenders, and they sent an undercover agent to hitch rides on the boats to observe. Although most of the boat captains were careful not to talk too much, the agent was able to report some captains. He even reported that at one of the hotels along the canal, the “hookers” would go onboard and carry off some of the coal for use in the hotel while the boatman went inside for a quick beer.65 In the last years of the canal age, a seal was put on the hatches after the coal was loaded, and it didn’t bode well for the boatmen if the seal was broken when they
delivered their load.
The camelback bridges that crossed over the canal may be picturesque, but they were nuisances for the canal men. When a boat was light and riding higher on the water, clearance under the bridges was too low, and many boatmen were injured. Ill-behaved children and teenagers were known to throw rocks or food over the bridges at the canal men, then run away laughing. In some of the rougher areas along the route, there were incidences when containers of trash were thrown on the canalboats. In one episode, a canal man was cooking his breakfast on deck when one of the boys urinated down into the pan. The canallers’ irritation was compounded by the fact that it was difficult for a canal man to jump off the boat in time to catch the miscreants.
The camelback bridges along the canal are picturesque, but boatmen considered them a hazard. There wasn’t much headroom beneath the bridges, and people standing on them would sometimes throw rocks or garbage at the boats. Courtesy of Historic Langhorne Association.
And then there were the swimmers who thought nothing of grabbing onto the boat for a ride, which could create a delay or even damages to either the boat or the sides of the canal if the captain couldn’t steer properly. Some captains were good-natured about it, and often the swimmers would acquiesce quickly and allow the boat to move on, but sometimes not. One captain reported in Yoder’s Delaware Canal Journal, “So there were these two in a canoe who grabbed on my rudder. I said, ‘Please get off it’s hard for me to steer.’” When the two wouldn’t comply, the captain went down into the cabin, grabbed his chamber pot and threw the entire contents onto the culprits. “You ought to see them dive for water. They took the boat number and from that time on we had no more trouble.”66 Some captains realized that they would avoid more trouble if they were agreeable. Captain Joe Reed would let them get on and dive off, and before long the boys could be coaxed to let him move on.
Although there were 116 regulations devised by the canal commissioners at the beginning of canal operations in 1833, there were really only a few important rules that couldn’t be violated. The passing rule was one of them. The loaded boats stayed toward the berm side, and the lighter empty boats moved along the towpath side, having the right of way. The towline of the loaded boat was dropped to the bottom of the canal so the approaching boat could pass over it. Every boat had to have a guard plate attached to the keel, extending under the rudder to cover the opening between the sternpost and rudder to prevent fouling the towline. If a boat was found without that guard, the captain would be penalized with a fine and have to pay for all damages.
Several covered bridges, like this one in Uhlersville, crossed over the canal and continue to be part of the Bucks County landscape today. Courtesy of Historic Langhorne Association.
When boats passed going in the same direction, the slow boat was expected to move to the berm side, stop and allow the other boat to pass. Again, a twenty-dollar penalty was charged if this regulation was violated. But a violation of this sort would often lead to a fight long before the canal bosses even knew about it, and in one incident of record, the violence turned to murder.
Captain Thomas Dougherty stopped his boat, but it wasn’t tied up, and the bow drifted out into the canal and blocked the passing of a boat operated by John Wildonger. Wildonger asked Dougherty to move the boat several times, but Dougherty did nothing. As a result, an argument ensued, with Wildonger throwing a watermelon rind at Dougherty and Dougherty responding by throwing chunks of coal. Wildonger threw his ice hook at Dougherty, striking him in the neck. The injured man fell overboard and was pulled out by the captain of a third boat, Captain James Thompson. Dougherty died a few minutes later. At his trial, Wildonger and his crew testified that he acted in self-defense, although Thompson contradicted that story. After an hour of deliberation, the jury inexplicably returned a verdict of not guilty.
When the hinge boats were empty, the middle portion of the vessel was slightly lower than the bow and stern, and in order to compensate, the canal captains attached turnbuckles to cleats on each half at the hinge that would draw the center of the boat up to allow for easier towing and steering, especially along areas of the canal that were more difficult to navigate. One of those points was a six-mile stretch just above Ground Hog lock.
At this section of the canal, a team of mules pulling a loaded boat stopped for a drink at the overflow. The driver happened to be on the boat at the time with the captain. Because of the strong current, the boat didn’t slow up and it passed the mules. Before the men onboard could react, the mules were drawn into the canal and were pulled down by their harnesses and traces. A Newfoundland dog that was on the boat jumped into the canal, grabbed the lead mule’s bridle and pulled the mules to shore.67
Stone walls along the canal in New Hope were built with spikes to keep the canallers off the walls while they waited for their turn to go through the locks. Author’s collection.
The wiser farmers and residents along the canal took advantage of the monotony of the trip up and down the canal for the boatmen. If the boatmen were accused of helping themselves to a wayward chicken crossing the towpath and dining on fat, ripe tomatoes that had been growing along the berm, then it was fair game when farmers placed bottles along their fences, knowing that the bored boatmen would be unable to resist the temptation to pitch coal to see how many bottles they could knock down. In a good year, the farmers could warm their homes for many days and nights with the coal they collected after one of these challenges.
Where There Are Kings, There Are Queens
The wives and children of boatmen either lived on the boat year-round with the captains or took several trips with them during the summer months. Wives could be as durable and capable as their husbands. They cooked, they steered and, when necessary, they drove the mules and snubbed the boat at the locks.
One day Dr. Magill of New Hope, a man who was very respected by the canallers, was fetched to deliver a baby on one of the canalboats. The physician made it just in time to deliver the baby, then left mother and child on the cabin’s bunk to go on his rounds. He was astounded to find the new mother at the tiller of the boat the very next morning, her infant in the other arm.
The women gave birth to their babies on the boats, tied their children to the decks of the boats so that they wouldn’t fall off and did their best to make the tiny cabins homey and warm. They bathed themselves and their children in the cold water of the canal, and come wash day, the women would bring their wooden washtubs on deck to launder their clothes and hang a line from one end of the boat to the other to dry them. The “facilities” were the bushes along the towpath or a pail or chamber pot in the cabin. Even in the best of circumstances, a boat provided primitive accommodations.
In good weather, and especially when wives would take the trip with their husbands, tie-up areas were filled with music and dancing. Accordions, violins and harmonicas came out of the cabins, and everyone was in good voice, singing songs about canal life, with new lyrics written and put to the melodies of songs from the “old country.” The Germans yodeled, the Irish waxed poetic and all danced to waltzes and polkas. They put aside their disagreements and fatigue and celebrated life as only hardworking, life-loving folk can do.
During the Civil War, when the canal men went off to fight, many of their wives, daughters and sons too young to fight took over the operations of the boats and locks. Although it was a hard life for women, supporting their children while their husbands fought a war was impetus enough to leave their homes on land for the cabins of their snappers and hinge boats.
Boatmen often brought their families with them for occasional trips, and sometimes families lived on the canal year-round. Courtesy of the Pennsylvania Canal Society Collection, National Canal Museum, Easton, PA.
The Turnout
When the canal needed to be repaired for major damages, usually as a result of freshets or storms, the canal men didn’t work, and there was no such thing as unemployment insurance then. When the “season” was cut short, so were the
wages. Damages from the flood of 1841 were still being made in 1843, and the boatmen who had anticipated a prosperous year were bitterly disappointed when a series of additional breaks in the banks occurred just as they started down the canal.
Boats were backed up in Easton. Canallers sat on their coal-filled boats with nowhere to go and nothing to do, their tempers growing hotter as they realized that the delays would result in lower wages for yet another year. They gathered in groups, railing against the company and becoming more inflamed as another sixty days went by without work.
When the canal was finally opened, the boatmen declared a “turnout,” meaning they were on strike. They demanded assurance of regular work and higher wages to make up for the pay they had lost. The Mauch Chunk miners joined them in solidarity, much to the dismay of Josiah White and the LC&N. They held their ground as long as they could, but in the end, the boatmen lost. And when they went back to work after their strike, they had gained nothing, but had lost even more time and more wages.
Chapter 9
Human Cargo
They came in the dark of night. They huddled in secret subterranean rooms. They crawled through underground tunnels. They buried themselves in straw-filled wagons. And they stowed away inside the coal holds of canalboats.
The North Star was their guide. They were always looking north, running north, racing toward their right to be free and to be treated with equality.
During the early years of settlement, Pennsylvanians, including Quakers, owned slaves. The doctrines of the Quaker religion were contrary to the practice of slavery and very strong Quaker opponents began to rail against their brethren who seemed to disregard the precepts that all people were equal in the sight of God. Even George Fox, who was the founder of the Society of Friends, preached against slavery but didn’t take strong action against it. William Penn was himself a slave owner, with several slaves serving at Pennsbury Manor, his country home in Bucks County.
The Delaware Canal Page 10