CHAPTER NINETY NINE: HEADING UP THE HUDSON RIVER TO OUR FIRST LOCK

CHAPTER NINETY NINE: HEADING UP THE HUDSON RIVER TO OUR FIRST LOCK

How could that “short” day of sightseeing produce such a lengthy blog (Chapter 98, Parts I and II)? And I didn’t even give you my observations of Woodstock. Suffice it to say, the hippie spirit is still alive and doing well all along Tinker Street in downtown Woodstock. Here are a few signs posted on the main street from the “Education Department”

ON THIS SITE STOOD AMERICAN PATRIOT ROB’T HASS WHO BELIEVED THAT A HEALTHY DEMOCRACY MUST DISCOURAGE APATHY AND RESPECT DISSENT.

And

ON THIS SITE STOOD A LOCAL MARKET BANKRUPTED BY THE MONOPOLISTIC, MAKE-IT-CHEAPER-IN-CHINA, ANTI-UNION BIG BOX STORE WHERE YOU SHOP.

“Ye Olde Hippie Shoppe of Woodstock” sells vinyl ecopaints. Its sign is in rainbow colors and R. Crumb comic book writing. I stopped in to see the exhibit at the Woodstock Artists Association. They’re having a huge auction September 1. Their offerings include some fairly skimpy drawings by Jerry Garcia, one Erte, and most of the rest a mix of media from acrylic landscapes to pottery to sculptures by local artists. There was no one in the gallery, but a querulous woman who claimed she wanted to bid on some items but found the website too confusing to figure out how to bid, if she and her husband were away September 1. But she wasn’t sure they would be away. I know these things because she repeated them at least 10 times. It could have been a bad acid trip – for her. So if you missed the Summer of Love in San Francisco in 1967 and you did not make it to Max Yasgur’s farm for the Woodstock Concert in 1969, and you want to experience the “New Age” at this late date, go to present day Woodstock. I must say that “Sunflower”, the grocery store, has a fantastic display of organic fruits and vegetables. That alone was worth the visit. We’re still enjoying the pluots.

Okay, that’s it for the land excursions on Wednesday, August 28. On Thursday morning the Admiral fired up Slow Motion’s engines and we cruised up river with the current toward New Baltimore, the home of an outstanding marina, Shady Harbor. We started around 6 a.m. and the river was dead calm. The sun was rising. It was a cool, crisp, almost-autumn morning. The Admiral and I kept taking photos of the Hudson River Valley – you have to see it from the water. We emailed some of the photos for friends to enjoy the moments with us. The combination of smooth river water, green islands and hillsides, and castles atop many of the hills, was very pleasing. At about 8 a.m. everything changed. Dense fog descended all around us, and for the next two and ½ hours, we navigated tensely with the use of radar and total concentration to avoid logs, other boats and the two shores. We were traveling on the narrowest part of the Hudson River. We knew that huge barges were using the river to get to Albany and back, and we prayed that we could see them, or they could see us, before a collision. Fog, next to lightning, has to be the biggest hazard on water. It creeps in on little cat’s feet – okay, not really – but it surrounds you without much notice, and then it just overstays its welcome by a few hours. When there is no wind, and when there is a difference between the water temp and the air temp, there is fog. The sun appeared to be burning through the fog, but then it disappeared again for another hour. When someone tells you they’re in a fog, feel sorry for them, because it’s not a good place to be, especially on water.

But the fog lifted a few hours before we arrived at Shady Harbor, and things were looking up. The folks at this marina sounded really accommodating on the telephone and we looked forward to our stay. As we pulled up to the dock, Sean and Cody, two very able dock hands greeted us and tied up all the necessary lines with dispatch. They also did the fancy coiling of the lines, which I love and which the Admiral doesn’t. Sean pointed to their swimming pool – it was sunny by now, in the 80’s and humid – bye, bye early taste of fall. I did not need a second invitation. I paid for the night and sped back to Slow Motion to put on my bathing suit to test the pool waters. People often ask us if we have been swimming in the rivers, bays, inlets and other waterways we have traversed. Are they nuts? Most of the water we cruise through is extremely polluted – the Caloosahatchee in Florida comes immediately to mind as the worst, the one that destroyed the Admiral’s polarized sunglasses in seconds. Some of the water contains alligators. The Chesapeake Bay has a banner crop of stinging sea nettles, or jellyfish ready to put red welts all over your body. Then there are the rivers, like the Hudson, with powerful currents, so if you jump off Slow Motion’s swim board in Albany, you’ll end up in the water in the New York Harbor – almost, anyway. You see my point? That’s why swimming pools are so coveted along our route.

Another great thing about swimming pools is that you meet folks there who have done a lot more traveling on water than you have, and you always learn something. At the Shady Harbor swimming pool, I met a couple with a 35 foot power boat based as Stony Point, New Jersey (or New York?). They were heading to Crescent for Labor Day. I had no idea where Crescent was, and they told me it was located on the shore of the Mohawk River shortly after you completed going through the Waterford series of locks. There’s a really big to-do in Crescent every Labor Day – a clam bash. This was important information, because the Admiral and I try to avoid any kind of bash, when we’re traveling every day and just want to sleep at night, starting at about 8:30 p.m. Bashes – with their drinking and music and loud talking – tend to interfere with sleep. This couple also told me that Superstorm Sandy had destroyed their home marina. Their boat (which was tied up on the water) and nine others survived with minimal damage, but the rest of the boats – dozens of them (many of them on land) – and the marina itself were destroyed. It’s up and running again, as are most of the northern New Jersey marinas. But it must have been devastating to drive to your marina right after Sandy wreaked her havoc to see only water in the space where your boat had been dry-docked for the winter and to realize that your boat had been smashed to smithereens or carried out into the ocean to be pulverized there.

When we arose the next morning, Friday, to leave, this couple from Stony Point came over from their boat, tied next to ours on the T head, and they released our last two lines for us. This is the part of boating that I really, really like. Everyone helps out on the dock where their boat is tied. Yes, it’s for self-preservation to make sure that some dunderhead doesn’t whack your boat, as he/she is leaving. But it is also a vital part of the boating community to help one another on the docks. And it never hurts to get a friendly sendoff by people who wish your fair weather and calm waters. It’s a really great way to start the day.

Our trip from Shady Harbor took us past more Hudson River Valley beauty and then to the more urbanized shores of Albany and Troy New York. Near the end of the day’s travel, we were going to pass through our first Hudson River lock, the federal lock at Troy. This is a direct quote from the Troy Lock’s website: “Opened in 1916 it was one of the first modern locks along the present day canal system. It contains a single chamber that is 520 feet long, 45 feet wide and 17 feet deep. At normal operating depths, it lifts boats 14 feet.” What a nice “lift” near the end of the day. We called ahead and spoke with the lock master, who told us to hail him on Channel 13 on the radio about 10 minutes before our arrival, and he would have the lock ready for us. We really thought we would see a lot more traffic on the Hudson, as we approached Albany, and that the lock could be crowded. But that wasn’t the case. When we had tied up at Shady Harbor the day before, and as I cooled myself in the clean, clear swimming pool water, a lot of very large boats and barges kept chugging by on the River. It was a veritable parade of Big Boats. The Admiral posited that the captains had pulled off somewhere on the river to wait out the morning fog, and now they were making up time to get to Albany that afternoon. When I say “big boats”, I mean really, really big, the kind you expect to see on the ocean, not in the narrowest part of the Hudson River. They were an impressive array of vessels. We saw a number of the barges the next day, as we cruised through Albany and Troy. They were being unloaded next to construction sites or manufacturing plants. Their tugs had moved on to the next job.

You don’t want to be reading while you’re cruising on the Hudson River for the first time. I’m 2/3 of the way through a Kingsolver novel, and I want to finish it. But I would miss too much. One of the Hudson River School artists, Frederic Church, built Olana, a 19^th century structure near Catskill on the top of Church Hill. I scanned the horizon for ten minutes looking for it. I think I saw it, but maybe on our trip south I can confirm the sighting. Before you get to this building, you have to keep your eyes pointed to the hills near Saugerties to find the rebuilt mansion of Robert Livingston, called Clermont. The original was burned down by the British in 1777, as part of their burning through the Catskills tour, which included the leveling of Kingston as well. Next to the castles and estates there are amazing lighthouses that look like mini-mansions built on an attractive base of rocks. I’m a sucker for lighthouses and have taken almost as many pictures of them as I have of bridges. Fortunately, the Admiral also falls for about every lighthouse we see, so I don’t hear the refrain: “Not another lighthouse photo!” when I point my I Phone and shoot. Everywhere we cruise we see the influence of the Dutch settlers, following in the wake of Henry Hudson’s Half Moon (Halve Maen). Henry Hudson was English, but he explored and navigated the Hudson River on behalf of the Dutch East India Company. And many Dutch settlers came shortly after his early 17^th century explorations. As the second settlers, after the Native Americans, the Dutch started naming locations where they established villages and towns. For example, the word “Rondout”, which is the name of a creek, a former town, a marina and many other sites, is the Anglicized version of the Dutch word for fort, “reduyt”, which is similar to the English word for fort, “redoubt”. Indeed there was a fort (reduyt) built at the entrance to what is now Rondout Creek. “Reduyt” showed up on maps as “Ronduyt” as early as 1666, so it’s not a big leap to get to Rondout from there. There is a Dutch word, “ronduyt”, which means frankly or positively, but it’s pretty clear that Rondout was originally the Dutch word for fort. Mixed in with the Dutch names are Native American place names, like Esopus, a town and a creek. Esopus means “high banks” in the language of the Esopus tribe which lived there. I’m sure when I say “Esopus” out loud I butcher the pronunciation. But at least I know its roots.

You definitely don’t want to be reading when you enter the federal lock at Troy, especially if you’re tasked, as I was, to hold the 38,000 pound Slow Motion next to the lock’s wall, so it wouldn’t flop around in the lock, when the water came rushing in. In order to do this nearly impossible feat, I was given a very old line by the Admiral – one we can afford to get really slimy – and I was told to wrap it around the bottom of a cable affixed to the wall of the lock. Sound easy? You have one chance to do it right. Slow Motion may be slow, but she moves, and I had to get the line around the cable before she moved far enough away from the cable that my arms could no longer reach it. Pressure. Suddenly I was feeling what the Admiral feels every day, as he contemplates our navigation hurdles, the weather, the leak in the propeller, the bilge buzzer going off, the unpredictable boaters, and whether he can trust his co-captain – me, silly! – to get the line around the cable. Well, I’m here to tell you I did it on the first try. What a relief! Because there really isn’t a second try. We were the only boat inside the lock, so there were no major distractions. And the Admiral had given me training the day before on what I had to do. Preparation is the key, again.

This Troy Lock is way cool. It carried Slow Motion 14 feet higher than when we entered. And once we were at the new level, the gates opened at the north end, and we were released to head up the waterway leading to the Champlain Canal. At a juncture about 3 miles north of the Troy Lock, we saw the sign for the Erie Canal directing us to the left. Thank God for signs. Our charts ran out shortly after the Troy Lock, and we were navigating chartless for the first time. We made the left hand turn and before us lay the famous Waterford Welcome Center seawall. This is the seawall that will be entertaining tugboats from all over starting September 4, ending September 9. As we approached the wall, Rip van Winkle – I swear it was him, a guy with long white hair and 20 year old rumpled clothing – directed us to a spot right behind the Waterford historic tug, Buffalo. Only trouble with this direction was that the space looked to be about 48 feet long. Catch my drift? The Admiral was fit to be tied – but not in that small space. He politely suggested that we could tie up in a larger space just a few boats down the seawall. Rip would have none of that. This was HIS dock, and G-dammit, we were going to follow his instructions. The Admiral asked if the tight space he had directed us to had 50 amp power. Rip responded tersely: “Haven’t got a clue.” This really inspired confidence in his knowledge of the dock and his ability to judge the size of the space he wanted to jam us into. He was very insistent that we not go anywhere else. At the point of this standoff, the guys from the historic Tugboat and some fellows from other boats tied up along the seawall came over to help us squeeze into the designated spot. It was a miracle! We actually fit into the space without damaging the tug in front of us or the trawler behind us. AND, the space had 50 amp power. We were happy, right? Not exactly. The Admiral is not used to such rude treatment. However, a trip to Rip’s office/throne room, where he had developed a more conciliatory tone, started smoothing the Admiral’s ruffled feathers. It also helped that this place has no dockage fee, only a $10 fee for electricity, and you can stay tied up there free for 48 hours. It’s first come, first served, but we were fortunate that we arrived early enough in the day that there was plenty of room – well, sort of.  

And finally, at Waterford, we were at the gateway to the Erie Canal. This is where it all begins, at the Flight of Locks, E-2 through E-6. We literally ran up to the first lock from the seawall. As we got near the lock, we saw a rushing waterfall tumbling over concrete steps – this was the first lock built, so incredibly narrow. Now the original lock is used to allow the water to flow out of the modern lock, which is right next to it. As we got to the first lock, E-2, we saw the majestic gates open on the south end. Four boats entered. We watched as the crews grabbed for the cables or long hanging ropes with boat hooks. You have your choice to use either the fixed cable or long slimy ropes hanging all the way down the wall. Every boater seemed to be able to hold their boats next to the wall, as the water rose – get this – 33.55 feet. I am not kidding. By the time you get through the entire Flight of Locks, your boat has been raised 169 feet. You get through all of these five locks in less than half a mile. This means that the Flight of Locks provides the largest lift in the shortest distance on any canal system in the world! (Source: www.nycanals.com website). Boy, were we in for a treat when we went up this Flight in two days. We watched the four boats rise, and only one started floating off the wall – the guy had let go of the boat hook. But it only takes one to cause damage. Fortunately, there was not another boat nearby. And all four boats left E-2 in the same condition they had entered it. But the boaters’ lives had been transformed forever. Is that too dramatic? Well, just a tad. But you know what I mean. There we were beholding one of the manmade wonders of the world, and it was awesome. I can’t wait to tell you about our own lock experiences – in the next blog. We’re getting up tomorrow at 5 a.m. to head back through the locks, so I’ve already given away that today, Saturday, August 31, WE MADE IT THROUGH THE FLIGHT OF LOCKS! Hurray! Just how we accomplished that feat of derring-do will require that you read on – Chapter 100 – unbelievable.

 

CHAPTER NINETY EIGHT – PART TWO

CHAPTER NINETY EIGHT – PART TWO

Okay, with the Emergency Banking Act and Glass-Steagall, the people were confident that their banks wouldn’t fail, and if they did, the federal government would insure their deposits. But they still needed something to deposit. On to jobs. FDR started with putting money into the pockets of the young people. FDR himself designed the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC), a program that put young men (ahem!) aged 17 to 24 to work on conservation projects. Many of the guys were urbanites, and their work carried them to rural environments, so in addition to lining their pockets, they broadened their horizons. In three months the Corps grew to 250,000 men who were assigned to CCC camps all over the country. African American men were signed up, but (no surprise here) they were forced to work in segregated camps. No women needed to apply, segregated or otherwise. Still, in nine years the CCC employed three million men. Eleanor Roosevelt tried to remedy the gender inequity, and with her support, a smaller program was created for unemployed young women. Thank God for women like Eleanor and Abigail (“Remember the women”). What did the CCC do? They planted more than two billion trees, fought forest fires, built trails, campgrounds and reservoirs and helped with soil conservation programs. It was one of the most successful programs of the New Deal. Yes, it cost money, but it put people to work, and the things they built still last to this day in our national forests and parks.

The CCC and other government work programs made a dent in the unemployment rate, reducing it from 25 percent to 21 percent in 1934, the first decrease since 1929. Then private investment started coming back, and it actually doubled in 1934. See how that works, Tea Party? First the government kicks in a lot of money to stimulate the economy; then private business has the assurances it needs that government is doing something to improve the economy and the privateers start putting their money back into the economy rather than just sitting on top of it. It could work again, if only Congress would let it. It worked so well that in the 1934 elections the voters were so pleased with the way things were going that they voted in even more Democrats in both Houses to continue the forward economic progress. This prompted FDR to expand his New Deal programs in 1935. Congress had already passed the National Industrial Recovery Act in 1933, which guaranteed workers the right to organize and bargain collectively. But it was after the mid-term elections that the Wagner Act became law. It re-affirmed the workers’ right to organize unions, and it also required employers to bargain with union reps. It also increased the power of the National Labor Relations Board to mediate labor disputes. With the passage of these two laws, union organizers were able to get a much larger percentage of workers to join unions. The percentage of unionized employees increased from 7 percent to 34 percent between 1933 and 1945.

FDR was just as concerned about securing economic protection for citizens as they reached old age as he was about providing jobs for the young. In 1935 he signed the Social Security Act. In so doing, he said: “We can never insure one hundred percent of the population against one hundred percent of the hazards and vicissitudes of life. But we have tried to frame a law which will give some measure of protection to the average citizen and to his family against the loss of a job and against poverty-ridden old age.” Man oh man, that guy could turn a phrase – and hit the nail on the head. Protection for the average citizen – that’s what the Social Security Act intended. To prevent older citizens from living in poverty – that was the goal. So tell me, why did President Reagan think he was entitled to Social Security? Surely he did not consider himself “average” and surely he was not facing an old age in poverty. But with rich folks like him milking Social Security, the whole purpose of the law has become perverted. Oh, I get it. Rich people contribute to Social Security throughout their working lives and they are entitled to a return on that investment. Perhaps they might consider taking a smaller return on their investment, if they really don’t need the money. Just saying. This is the kind of private charity I can get behind; maybe President Hoover would even have approved.

But even with its flaws, the Social Security Act was by far the biggest domestic achievement of all of FDR’s terms. It not only created old-age pensions and unemployment insurance, which were funded by payroll taxes on workers and employers, but it also provided grants to states to help disabled people and fatherless children. As a fatherless child from the age of 13 on, I am very grateful to FDR for creating this benefit, because it made it possible for my mother to support me and three siblings and also made my college education a reality. Oh yes, my mother went to work as soon as my father died, but with women’s wages being so much lower than men’s in the 50’s (and even now), the Social Security death benefits kept us above the poverty level. Thank you, Mr. Roosevelt and Secretary of Labor Frances Perkins.

These first four years of FDR’s Presidency showed that he was indeed willing to experiment with social programs, if he felt the action he was taking would improve the economy for all citizens, but particularly those citizens who lost their jobs and were living in poverty as a result of the Great Depression, followed by four years of total inaction by Hoover’s regime. And when he was nominated for a second term, FDR recognized the virtues of bold governmental action to improve the economy. In his acceptance speech given June 27, 1936, the nominee stated: “Better the occasional faults of a government that lives in a spirit of charity than the consistent omissions of a government frozen in the ice of its own indifference.” A “spirit of charity” – where is that spirit today? Why does it seem that all we have is a mean spirit, one that blames the 47% for not earning enough wages to support themselves and require governmental assistance like food stamps? It seems simple enough to understand that when businesses do not pay a living wage, workers cannot live without government assistance. And it also seems simple enough that any far-sighted businessman should be able to see that a healthy economy depends on employees earning living wages. It does NOT depend on businesses amassing obscene profits (Exxon anyone?) and either salting them away or throwing them away on hellishly high executive wages, benefits and bonuses. Greed was never good, not even in the 1980’s, but especially now, when so many are trying to live on so little.

Let’s close the book on FDR, as I have to leave his Library to return to Slow Motion and head to the Erie Canal. I realize I only covered his first term in office. You’ll have to go to Hyde Park yourself to learn about the other three terms. Maybe you think I’ve presented too rosy a picture of FDR and his accomplishments, but any objective commentator will admit that the first term was an amazing period of change for the good of the economy. And, to be fair, the commentaries that are written all over the Library with various exhibits are not all glowing, because not everything FDR touched turned to gold. There is coverage of the “Roosevelt Recession” in 1937-38. In September, 1937 FDR announced major spending cuts in an effort to balance the budget. To ward off inflation, he supported efforts to tighten credit. And, of course (déjà vu), as government spending decreased and interest rates increased, economic progress not only came to a standstill, but dropped off considerably. By March 1938 unemployment, which had gone as low as 14 percent was back up to 19 percent.

What FDR had, which the current President will not have, is a major worldwide war to pull the United States out of that recession and to grow the economy – the war economy by leaps and bounds. He already started increasing defense spending in 1939, in light of Hitler’s successes in trampling upon and subjugating major European countries. Naturally, as spending increased, the budget deficits got a lot larger. However, the spending stimulated growth throughout the American economy, and unemployment went from 19 percent to 9.9 percent in 1941. It just takes a humongous war, a supermajority in Congress, and a President who cares more about people than a deficit to right the American economy in times of recession. By 1944, economic growth – based in large part on the expansion of the armed forces – reduced unemployment to 1.2 percent. Do you think that “Shrub” (Gov. Anne Richards’ nickname for Bush II) was hoping to achieve the same results with his wars in Iraq and Afghanistan? For a while he was able to use the hawks in his party to keep the deficit squawkers in line. But with that peacenik Obama in the White House now, the deficit squawkers don’t have to knuckle under to patriotic hawks. They can cloak themselves in a new perversion of patriotism – it’s un-American in their eyes to spend money on social programs. Balancing the budget has become a new religion, because it sure ain’t good economics in a recession. It’s hard to swallow that our country is at its most prosperous in wartime, but that’s the raw truth. When we’re not at war on a foreign shore, we seem to turn our belligerence on each other. Who should we blame? Who can we be better than? Who can we hate? Divide and be conquered from within. Wake up, America. Read a little history. See that we’ve been in this place before, and accept that we have to spend our way out of a recession. Every day Paul Krugman tells us this. Let’s listen. Better yet, let’s get our government to melt the ice of its own indifference and return to a spirit of charity toward its neediest citizens.

For those of you who read this blog for the travel adventures, I will return to descriptions of our cruising on Slow Motion in Chapter 99, from the Rondout Yacht Basin to Shady Harbor to Waterford – and through the first 5 locks of the Erie Canal. You are in for a treat. I might even mention my side trip today to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York. Be still, my heart.

 

 

 

CHAPTER NINETY EIGHT: FROM THE NEW DEAL TO THE NEW AGE IN A FEW SHORT HOURS - PART 1

CHAPTER NINETY EIGHT: FROM THE NEW DEAL TO THE NEW AGE IN A FEW SHORT HOURS -- PART 1

Here’s the deal on FDR’s Library and Museum at Hyde Park, New York: It is by far the coolest Presidential Library I have ever visited. I have been to Ike’s in Kansas, where Mamie’s jewelry was displayed on a rotating Ferris wheel type contraption under a glass case. Does anyone remember what kind of jewelry Mamie wore? Anyone? It was clunky, all the better to highlight her signature bangs. C’mon, Michelle, get an original idea now and then. Bangs are so ‘50’s. In addition to the circling jewels, there was a large map of Europe that had lights for every location where the Allied Troops engaged the evil Axis soldiers in World War Two. It was rudimentary and it may have been replaced by now. My Eisenhower Library tour was in the summer of 1967. I also toured the LBJ Library in Austin, Texas, when I visited my sister, Jean, in about 1990. This presidential library had a very interesting letter from Jackie Kennedy Onassis to LBJ thanking him for all his kindnesses after JFK was assassinated and the Camelot Crew had to leave the White House. Apparently, LBJ gave Jackie all the time she needed to move out, and she expressed her sincere gratitude with some very flattering phrases. Say what you will about how much she disliked LBJ, she was extremely cordial in this “thank you” letter. The girl was well bred.  LBJ’s Library also featured some great interactive exhibits on facets of the Great Society. His Presidency was a time of unprecedented legislative advancement for civil rights, with the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965. At the November 27, 1963 Joint Session of Congress – 5 days after Kennedy was assassinated – LBJ told the representatives: "No memorial oration or eulogy could more eloquently honor President Kennedy's memory than the earliest possible passage of the civil rights bill for which he fought so long." Ironically, historians say that Kennedy alive did not have a prayer of ever getting these laws passed.

LBJ’s Library set the bar pretty high for my next presidential library visit. But the folks who brought us FDR’s Library had a lot more presidential years to present – nearly four terms – and they had the Great Depression, the New Deal, World War Two and Eleanor, to name a few major world events from 1932 to 1945. Yes, indeed, Eleanor was her own world event, much more than a First Lady had ever been before, the trailblazer for so many women in politics, who never shied away from the toughest subjects – like segregation in the United States in the 30’s and 40’s and the unspeakable internment of most of the Japanese population on the West Coast during World War II. There apparently used to be two libraries, one for FDR and one for Eleanor, but their political lives were so intertwined that wiser heads prevailed and both Roosevelts are presented in all their nobility at the Hyde Park Library and Museum. Before I forget, one of the most interesting facts about this place is that FDR himself not only founded the Library, but also had a working office inside it. He is the only sitting President to have actually used his Library while still in office. He started planning it in 1940 during the end of his second term, which many thought would be his last.

But before we get to 1940, let’s start with the condition of our society while Hoover was still President. Long before there was this modern day Republican wing that calls itself the Tea Party, most of their retread ideas had been espoused and enacted into law during Hoover’s less than successful administration. Hoover was VERY BIG on small government. His credo (before Ted Cruz, Rand Paul and that unctuous Mario Rubio) was that the less intervention the better into any major institution, like Wall Street, the banks and the companies that were running the country into the ground. The problem was that in 1932, when he was still President, the entire world was in a global depression, the worst known to history at that time. And so, millions were out of work. Unemployment was about 25%, having been a mere 3.2% when Hoover took office. The U.S. economy shrank by almost half. Factories were closed. Banks were failing. Nine thousand closed their doors. Nearly 100,000 businesses failed and corporate profits dropped 90 percent. Farms were abandoned, as farmers could not get loans and save them. Farm income dropped by over 50 percent.

This economic and social disaster had been going on for three years, Hoover’s entire term, and he had done NOTHING. What’s a conservative to do? Stand by and watch the economy fail? Well, yes. That’s the free market system at work – no government interference. Surprise! It wasn’t working. And the citizens looked to government for some help. They had no money to spend on consumer goods, so more factories closed and more people were out of work. A town like Youngstown, Ohio had 60 percent unemployment. The mighty U.S. Steel Corporation had 100,000 employees in 1929, and by late 1932, it had none. Hunger and homelessness increased. Duh. As there was no employment insurance, the jobless had nothing. Shack towns and cities – aptly called “Hoovervilles” – started appearing everywhere. Breadlines were a common occurrence.

President Hoover was straitjacketed by his belief in small government. His plan, if you can call it that, was to provide economic relief through private charity. He even refused to provide federal relief money to the unemployed. While he gave some federal credit assistance to those needy, greedy banks and businesses, he refused to fund public works projects or other measures that would stimulate the economy. Sound like déjà vu all over again, Republican-controlled House of Representatives? Could you go back to your history books and read the chapter on the Hoover presidential years and realize how unsuccessful your limited government ideology was back then? Does the American populace have to suffer again, because the Paul Ryans of today have gone back to Hoover’s wrongheaded belief that an inactive federal government – or no government – is a viable way to get out of a depression? It’s not. Read your history. Go to the FDR Library for a refresher course. Here’s another remarkable similarity between then and now. There was a grossly unequal distribution of wealth in Hoover’s years. During the 1920’s, even before he took office, the proportion of business profits going to the employees as wages was too small to allow them to buy the goods that the economy was producing. Of course, once they lost their jobs, the unequal distribution of wealth was exacerbated, as former workers had NO money.

Not surprisingly, FDR got elected in 1932, but it was almost too late. Before he was inaugurated in March, 1932, 4000 banks were forced out of business in January and February of that year. There was no such thing as government insurance for bank accounts – that would definitely have been government interference – so millions of citizens lost their entire life savings. This was even before FDR took the helm. There was a run on the rest of the banks to get the money out, before the banks lost the rest of the savings of Americans.

FDR entered office with a vengeance. His first hundred days as President were, in the words of the FDR Presidential Library, the “most action packed in American history. No new president had ever moved with such urgency on so many fronts so fast, issuing proclamations and executive orders and driving a torrent of legislation through Congress to stimulate recovery, relieve economic hardship and enact reforms.” Yowzah!

The first major action of FDR was to save the banks – sound familiar? We just keep repeating history, because we either choose not to study it or masochistically enjoy suffering through the same economic hard times in each generation. How did FDR save the banks? He declared a “bank holiday”, which closed all of the country’s banks temporarily. Then he called upon Congress to pass emergency legislation, called appropriately the Emergency Banking Act. Treasury officials wrote the bill, got it to Congress 4 days later and it was approved within hours. No gridlock? None. FDR had a far easier time getting bills approved by Congress, because when the voters elected him, they also elected Democrats in a landslide year for them, both in the Senate (a pickup of 12 seats) and in the House of Representatives (a pickup of 97 seats). There was a Democratic super-majority in both houses of Congress. Fifty nine of the 96 Senators were Democrats. And 313 of the 435 Representatives were Democrats. It’s easy-peasy to get major legislation passed in Congress with this kind of support.

The Emergency Bank Act authorized the federal government, for the first time, to examine bank finances and to provide capital to banks which the government decided were fit to re-open. You read that right. The government decided which banks were fit to re-open. There was no “too big to fail” mentality. The healthy banks were allowed to re-open March 13, 1933. Keep in mind that FDR was installed in office on March 4, 1933, so this revolutionary bank reform was really, really quick. On March 12, FDR spoke on nationwide radio to reassure Americans that the banks would be trustworthy once more. And his reassurances worked. When the banks re-opened the next morning, citizens lined up to put their money back into the banks. The run on the banks ceased. This victory for the American people was monumental. If FDR had done only that, his place in history would be secured. But he did so much more.

Still in the financial vein, FDR eliminated the gold standard. Announcing that he was following the lead of Great Britain, he said that the dollar’s value would no longer be tied to the price of gold. What this did was allow the Treasury to increase the supply of dollars in circulation by printing more currency. And the value of this money “floated”. This action was taken to end the debilitating inflationary spiral and stimulate economic growth. It did both, although not to the degree that FDR had anticipated. Still, it was action, a necessary action, to help get the country out of the Depression by putting money into the hands of the consumers, who were essential to buy products and get factories manufacturing again, while re-hiring workers and reducing unemployment.

And finally, back to the banks. The Glass-Steagall Banking Act was passed to stabilize the banking situation. With the passage and enforcement of this Act, the bank failures were reduced from 4000 in 1933 to 61 in 1934. The Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation was created by this Act, and this protected depositors by insurance their individual bank accounts. What a concept! The Federal Reserve System got greater control over bank credit. And get this, the Act ended risky stock speculation by commercial banks by separating commercial banking from investment banking. Yes, you’re way ahead of me. In 1999 Congress dismantled this part of the Glass-Steagall Act and we are still paying the price. Back to the separation of commercial banking and investment banking! Back to a stable financial future! Oh yeah, right. Gridlock – can’t even get the overseer of the banks or the protector of consumers confirmed in the Senate without a filibuster or threat of one. FDR was sooo lucky to have his super-majority. A lot of actions had to be taken quickly to get the country moving again – déjà vu? – and the President and Congress WORKED TOGETHER to do it. I’m not one who usually longs for the “good old days”, but gee, it sure would be nice to have a majority in Congress who have the historical perspective and the gray matter to understand the need for government action to stimulate the economy.

Prior to his election FDR promised action. This is what he said in his Mary 22, 1932 speech at Oglethorpe University: “The country needs, and unless I mistake its temper, the country demands bold, persistent experimentation. It is common sense to take a method and try it: if it fails, admit it frankly and try another. But above all, try something.” We’ve covered the major actions in the financial sector, but oh, there was so much more. Stay tuned, my historian friends, or return to your Fox News and MSNBC News and let the talking heads try to “spin” a story about how the current crises are “unprecedented” and about how big government is very bad for the people, but unfettered capitalism will save us all, or about how the current president, with no super-majority in either House of Congress, has been a complete, dithering failure for not “making” them pass laws to get us out of the Great Recession.

 

 

 

CHAPTER NINETY SEVEN: CHANGE OF PLANS

CHAPTER NINETY SEVEN: CHANGE OF PLANS

Upstate New York is the bomb! We got two round fenders, big as beach balls, today from Defender via UPS and we went in search of a pump that would blow them up. We found a tire place and I asked the guy working there if he could help us. He immediately stopped what he was doing and walked over to their air pump. The Admiral showed him the valve, and he started pumping up the first fender. Done in ten seconds. On to the next fender – another ten seconds, and we had our fenders for the Troy Lock and the Erie Canal Locks. I asked the helpful Upstater if I could donate to his favorite local charity, and he just smiled and quietly told me “No.” He would not take any money. See how really nice people act? I’m talking to you, Mr. loud Northern New Jersey Shore dock hand. This guy probably does not have an f word in his vocabulary. It was a great way to start the day. The Admiral carried the fenders back to Slow Motion, as I headed off for a day of sightseeing.

It was around 10:45 am when I left the Rondout Yacht Basin in my retro Mazda 3 rental (no cruise control, no automatic locks, no remote control buttons, no 21^st century accessories). I programmed the GPS for the Culinary Institute of America across the Hudson in Hyde Park. GPS listed my arrival time at 11:35 a.m. Lunch time, I thought, as I salivated just a little. The guidebooks said you have to have a reservation, but I thought this is Tuesday, not a big tourist day, nobody breaks for lunch before noon anyway, and maybe I can sneak in at 11:45 before the crowd. Luck was with me on this sunny, but muggy, day. I arrived around 11:40 a.m. and headed for the restaurant building. The campus of the Culinary Institute is esthetically pleasing – lots of brick and stone buildings spread out under trees with plenty of green grass to sit or lie on and dream of your next kitchen concoction. I entered a nearly empty parking garage – good sign – and sped up the steps to the welcome desk. I asked if I needed a reservation for lunch, and the welcoming docent told me that I had my choice of eating at the Apple Pie Bakery Café, just around the corner, or going to the Italian restaurant for all kinds of pasta dishes. All I needed to hear was “apple pie” and I slid around that corner really fast. There were about 6 people in line before me. Big deal. It moved fast, and I had ordered and found a place at a table with four chairs (I like to stretch out and there were plenty of empty tables) before noon.

You can bet I ordered a slice of apple pie. In fact, I toyed with the idea of making apple pie – one or two (or three) slices – my whole lunch. But the nutrition fairy who sits on my shoulder when I am making such decisions recommended the mixed green salad. I was willing to do that, but I still needed to test the mettle of the chefs-in-being, so I also ordered one of the soups of the day – tomatillo soup with goat cheese topping. The mixed green salad has a highfalutin description (“local mesclun lettuce and arugula, dressed with shallot vinaigrette, English cucumbers, toasted sunflower seeds, heirloom cherry tomatoes, and shaved Parmigiano-Reggiano”). So there was a modicum of creativity and skill involved in the making of it. The tomatillo soup was the standout, however. I have never eaten it before, but I sure would like to find another restaurant that can make it. The salad’s dressing was really sweet – is that what shallots do to it? There was a lot of lettuce and arugula, not enough heirlooms and cukes. The shaved cheese was a great topper. Lose the sunflower seeds. Now to the apple pie – when it was delivered (along with the salad, a major faux pas), I asked the waitperson if it had been warmed and she assured me it had. There is one hard and fast rule about apple pie that must be followed without exception – it must be warm, so that the rich flavor comes out in every bite. I hope every chef at the CIA learns this before graduating. But today, none of the apprentices was up to the task. The apple pie was room temperature. Don’t get me wrong – the apples were delicious, the crumbs on top were great – but it could have been so much more. And the worst thing any waitperson can do is raise false hopes that are dashed with the first bite. Olivia, you made the right choice selecting Berkeley over the CIA. You are far too honorable to misrepresent the temperature of a slice of apple pie. I left the Apple Pie Bakery Café about 12:30, and by then there was a very long line that ran completely down the hall and around the corner. So if you’re planning a trip to the CIA, make sure you arrive before noon, or expect to have enough time in the waiting line to memorize the entire menu before you are allowed inside to place your order.

I was on a tight schedule today, as the Admiral and I had decided at 9:30 this morning to change our plans for the next two weeks. We were going to stay at Rondout Yacht Basin through Labor Day, then head up to the Erie Canal on Tuesday, September 3. In fact, I have already paid for a nine day stay here in Kingston. However, we read in the September issue of Boating on the Hudson and Beyond that there will be a huge tugboat convention at Waterford, New York from September 6 through 8. Waterford, New York is where you tie up the night before entering the first series of locks on the Erie Canal (the Waterford Flight). This led the Admiral to question whether we would find a place to tie up in Waterford next week. So, as the navigator, I was tasked to call the Waterford Welcome Center to find out if they would have room for Slow Motion next Wednesday, September 4, or soon thereafter. Good thing the Admiral is so cautious. The WWC dock person told me that the tie up wall that is usually available to transients would be “closed” from September 4 through September 9, so that all the tugboats can be accommodated. And we thought that Labor Day would be the problem – oh no, it’s those cute little tugboats that we have photographed at least a thousand times along every waterway on the East Coast. They’re not so cute any more.

Okay – change of plans. That’s something we do at least once a week, based on changes in the weather. We’re kind of used to tossing out a week’s worth of planning and starting from scratch again. So we developed two options – one which was “iffy”, which would have us cruise from a place below Waterford through the first 5 locks and on to Schenectady in one day, then stay in Schenectady until the tugboats became unglued from the Waterford Wall. The other option was to leave tomorrow for Waterford and get there tomorrow or Thursday, then go through the Erie Canal Locks on Friday and arrive in Schenectady Friday afternoon, then return to Rondout Yacht Basin on Labor Day, with a stop at a cool looking marina in New Baltimore on the way south. This option required that the Schenectady Yacht Club have room for us on Friday. It actually required that the Schenectady marina have docks – the aerial photo showed no docks, but blurbs in the ActiveCaptain blog extolled the quality of the new floating docks. I made a call the Schenectady this morning, and we got “yeses” to both questions: Yes, we have floating docks, and Yes, you can stay here Friday. I then called Waterford about whether they would have room this Thursday, before they closed up for the tugs, and the dock person said that it is “really slow” this week, and she expects it to be slow the entire week – until the rush of boats for the Labor Day Weekend. Waterford has a “first come, first serve” policy, so there are no guarantees we can tie up there this week, but we have a good chance of getting space for Slow Motion. Finally, I called the New Baltimore marina, and they were most accommodating, having space for us both tomorrow, if necessary, and September 1 too. This second option was looking good.

And for that reason, my sightseeing time was looking really short. I had rented the car for the week, but now with our new plan, I had to see whatever I wanted to see between 11 a.m. and 5 p.m., then return the car and get back to Slow Motion. Oh, and I also had to find time to get some essential groceries – bread, fruit, vegetables. Piece of cake, right? My itinerary had included the CIA in Hyde Park and FDR’s residence and library in Hyde Park, both on the east side of the Hudson River, and after that, a return to the west side of the Hudson River to go back in time (1969 to be exact) to visit Woodstock and my hippie roots. I am here to tell you that this can be done in 6 hours. I did it. It meant spending just an hour or so at the FDR Library and Museum and not visiting his house. This place required more time, and I hope to return when we get back to Rondout Yacht Basin on Labor Day. It also meant dropping by Woodstock for a half hour of immersion in modern day hippie culture, which is exactly like the hippie culture I was part of in the 60’s, except more popular with “straight” people and much more expensive. But you’ll have to wait until the next blog to read about these two incredible places, because the Admiral is importuning me to retire. It’s 9 p.m. and we’re leaving tomorrow at 6:30 a.m. Change of plans.

 

CHAPTER NINETY SIX: MORE HUDSON RIVER STORIES

CHAPTER NINETY SIX: MORE HUDSON RIVER STORIES

On Sunday, we left Half Moon Bay marina, picking up our lines carefully to avoid the new duck droppings, which turned out to be an impossible task. Foie gras anyone? Just kidding. Force feeding a duck (or goose) to get a food delicacy is finally getting the negative attention it deserves. Will it stop? In California, yes, but how can you stop a nation of 50 million Frenchmen and women from stuffing their faces with foie gras? But I digress – how unusual. Suffice it to say that our lines did not fare well on the poopy decks of Half Moon Bay. The owl decoys appear to be working on the docks where they are strategically placed, but the outer docks where we were had no such scarecrows. Except for this excrement, Half Moon Bay has a lot to be proud of. They should open the swimming pool to transients, if at all possible. But the site is lovely with large greenswards leading down to the water’s edge and trees lining the road into the marina. Enterprise is less than ½ mile away. And Shoprite is less than a mile away. The price of gas is higher than anywhere else other than California -- $4 per gallon. And even with the greatest discount that Steve could give us, we paid $150 per night. Yes, that’s a hefty monthly bill, if every marina charged that amount. Fortunately, we were headed to a marina with a rate of $9 per foot per week, so we can get seven days there for the price of three days at Half Moon Bay. I still can’t get over the name – Half Moon Bay in California is on the Pacific Coast just 1 and ½ miles north of where I live, and they boast the largest pumpkins in the world. Lyn and Mike gave me one of robust home grown squashes, but there were no 1000 pound pumpkins in sight at Half Moon Bay East.

The Admiral carefully eased us out of our slip and backed into some very shallow water, before heading out of the marina into the current of the Hudson River. At that time of the morning, 8 a.m., the current was against us. But there was little wind, and we were able to maintain a speed of 7 knots with the engines running at 1400-1500. This being Sunday, we expected a lot more boat traffic. Not at 8 a.m., and not at 9 a.m. either. It wasn’t until around 11 or 12 that the weekend boaters roused themselves from their Saturday night revelries to run past Slow Motion heading north and south, after we had already passed West Point and Cold Spring and Storm King on our way to Kingston, New York. Even then, there were not a lot of boaters – the Loopers must heading towards the Mississippi by now. Earlier this summer for about 3 weeks in June most of the Erie Canal was closed to all boats, as spring floods had taken their toll on many of the locks. We kept reading about boats stacking up in Waterford, New York, and at that time we felt fortunate to be starting our journey north so late. And now, as we are poised to enter the Erie Canal next week, we just read about THE tugboat convention that is taking over the Waterford Visitor Center docks from September 4 until September 9. Oy veh! I called and learned that no transients can tie up on these docks for those dates. It would be great to see so many tugboats in one spot and to board the boats and learn more about them, but when all you want to do is spend a night in Waterford before climbing the Waterford Stairs (first four locks on the Erie Canal), the tugboats become a nuisance, not even an attractive one. There is no good alternative to the tying up at the Waterford docks for boats entering the Erie Canal – unless we find one. And we’re looking as I write this blog.

However, back to our Sunday cruise. The Hudson River Valley presents photo opportunities at every turn. There are mansions on both sides of the river and green mountains and granite gray rock faces look down upon you, as you cruise by. Every so often you reach a major institution – the United States Military Academy is one. It stretches for what seems like a half mile along the Hudson. I had visited West Point years ago while in college, in the wintertime, and it looked very bleak at that time. Now in August it juts out from a hillside that is still covered with fifty shades of green, and if it weren’t for the fortifications atop the massive walls, it would look inviting, sort of. This is the narrowest part of the Hudson. Revolutionary War soldiers tried to stop the forward motion of British ships up the Hudson by putting a giant chain across the river. Did it work? I mean, if our soldiers can put a giant chain in place across the river, can’t their soldiers just take down the chain? And they did. They even found a use for it in their harbor far away in Gibraltar (the sun never sets…) – no information on whether it actually worked against invaders there. On the roof of one of the field houses in big enough letters for any plane or helicopter to see are the words “SINK NAVY” on one side and “BEAT AIR FORCE” on the other side. West Point apparently has new adversaries since the Revolutionary War.

Not all that we see along the Hudson River is photogenic or worthy of a painting by the Hudson River School of artists, known for their lush landscapes of this valley. Shortly after we left Half Moon Bay and headed toward West Point, we saw two ominous “stacks” that are dead giveaways for a nuclear power plant. Sure enough, we were looking at IPEC. Indian Point Energy Center, now owned by Entergy. This 40 year old environmentally risky power station is located just south of Peekskill New York. Good luck, citizens of Peekskill. There was not a sign anywhere to inform the boaters passing by who is responsible for this operation. Are the owners a bit sensitive after the disaster at the Fukushima plant last year? There used to be three “units” in operation at IPEC, but now there are “only” two. Unit 2 was commissioned August 1, 1974 and its license expires September 28, 2103. Unit 3 was commissioned August 30, 1976 and its license expires December 12, 2015. Governor Cuomo of New York opposes the extension of these licenses, citing the hazardous nature of an aging nuclear power plant. The Nuclear Regulatory Commission (NRC) is all for granting each reactor a twenty (20) year extension. These reactors generate more than 2000 megawatts of electrical power, which is about 30 percent of the electricity used in NYC and Westchester County. Who do you think is going to win this skirmish? The Governor who is saying “Shut them down!”? Or the NRC, backed by the millions of NYC and Westchester dwellers who need the electricity this plant provides?

Can you imagine what the equipment of a 40 year old nuclear reactor looks like today? According to the New York Times, IPEC “has encountered a string of accidents and mishaps since its beginnings, and has appeared on the federal list of the nation’s worst nuclear power plants.” Republican Governor Pataki commissioned a report in 2003 that concluded that the “current radiological response system and capabilities are not adequate to…protect the people from an unacceptable dose of radiation in the event of a release from Indian Point.” Sound familiar? On the other hand, in 2009 IPEC was awarded its 5^th top safety rating for annual operations by none other than the federal regulators, who are in bed with the nuclear energy industry (did I say that?). The Hudson Valley Journal News reported that the plant has shown “substantial improvement in its safety culture” in recent years. Where there is room for “substantial improvement”, there is reason to be concerned, very concerned, about what still needs “improvement.”

Here’s a short list of things that have gone wrong/ are still going wrong with IPEC:

1)    IPEC stores used fuel rods in two spent fuel pools on site. These fuel pools, which contain more nuclear material than both reactors, have no containment structure, according to the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation. IPEC has been moving to “dry casking”, a much safer way of storing spent fuel, but the two not so safe spent fuel pools are still used and will continue to be used, as spent fuel must be stored there at least 5 years before being transferred to dry casks. And according to the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation, the spent fuel pools are “exposed and unsecured” and therefore “vulnerable to attack.” Thought you might want to know that, citizens of Peekskill and surrounding towns.

2)    In 2008 earthquake researchers discovered an active seismic zone that goes within a mile of IPEC, which intersects with the Ramapo Fault. The fault line extends to nine miles below the surface. But don’t worry, IPEC was built to withstand an earthquake of 6.1 on the Richter Scale. So don’t be shaking the earth in that area more than 6.1, Mother Nature.

3)    In November, 2010, an explosion occurred in the main transformer for IPEC, Unit 2, spilling oil into the Hudson River. The owner agreed to pay a penalty of $1.2 million for the transformer explosion. And what happened to the river and its living beings?

4)    Also in 2010 an estimated 600,000 gallons of “mildly” radioactive steam was intentionally vented to the atmosphere after an automatic shutdown of Unit 2. After the intentional vent, one of the vent valves was unintentionally left open for two days. But don’t worry, the levels of tritium in the steam were within the allowable safety limits defined by the NRC. Erin Brockovich, help!

5)    In 2007 a transformer at Unit 3 caught fire, and the NRC increased inspections because the plant had experienced many unplanned shutdowns. There has been a history of transformer problems, according to the New York Times.

6)    In 2005 Entergy workers discovered a “small leak” in a spent fuel pool, and water containing tritium and strontium 90 was leaking through a crack in the pool building to the Hudson River. The fuel rods were safely covered despite the leak. The New York Times reported finding radioactive nickel-63 and strontium in groundwater at the site.

7)    In 2000 a small radioactive leak from a steam generator tube forced the plant to close for 11 months. Wonder how long a medium sized leak would have closed the plant? Wonder how that steam generator tube is doing 13 years later?

Okay, it’s time for some lighter fare. So here is an upbeat narrative about the rest of our cruising Sunday, August 25:

It’s only a hop, skip and a jump from West Point on the west side of the Hudson River to Poughkeepsie on the east side. We focused our binoculars on that town to find Vassar College. I had googled some of the prominent buildings and we were looking for the cathedral-like church on campus. There was a huge academic campus right along the Hudson in Poughkeepsie. A big white tent was pitched in the center of the buildings, and the Admiral could see moving in action by parents and students. We were convinced this was Vassar, but then we saw an “M” on the boathouse, and I noticed some serious sports facilities. I thought at first: “How progressive! Vassar has taken Title 9 to the max, with a basketball arena, football field – football field? So I went back to googling academic institutions in Poughkeepsie. Looks like the “M” stands for Marist, which is known to have a fine basketball program. We never saw a Vassar building.

By the time we had reached Poughkeepsie the current was with us, and we were easily cruising at 8 knots. The Admiral saw some deer on a hillside, who were enjoying the sunny, breezy day by gawking at us and grazing. No porpoises, alas, to race with Slow Motion. I really miss those playful mammals. And no pelicans either. This is the land of ducks and geese – and sea gulls heading back to NYC.

Bridges – there are really great suspension bridges, each of which has its own history going back at least a century – crossing the Hudson between Half Moon Bay at Croton on Hudson and Kingsport. There’s the Bear Mountain Bridge, a beauty, the world’s largest suspension bridge when it was completed in 1924. It’s part of the Appalachian trail too. Just north of where this bridge is situated, our dear soldiers tried to use the chain to stop British warships from passing. I didn’t mention it, but not only did the British take the chain, but they continued up the Hudson and burned the town of Kingston to the ground. After the Bear Mountain Suspension Bridge, we cruised under the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge, a serviceable structure. And north of that we sailed under the Mid-Hudson Suspension Bridge at Poughkeepsie, another oldie but goodie, built in 1930. See what kind of public works can be completed during a Depression to give people jobs and improve our infrastructure? Hint, hint.

Castles and lighthouses: There is an island called either Pollepel or Bannerman’s, which we passed after Storm King Mountain. Frank Bannerman built a medieval castle on this wooded isle. You can still see it today, but it’s a burned out structure. The State of New York got the island in 1967 and in 1969, the castle burned. Why? I don’t know. It’s still under investigation. A cold case about a hot fire. About twenty miles north of Bannerman’s Island, we saw a lighthouse which looks like a multi-roomed school house. It was sitting on a solid rock/concrete base in the middle of the river, and a little dinghy was tied up next to it. That would be a cool place to explore on Halloween or any other dark and stormy night. As we approached our destination at Kingsport, we were greeted at the end of Rondout Creek (pronounced “crick”, according to a long-time resident) by a mini-mansion with a lighthouse tower affixed to the front of it, sitting on a flat green piece of land at the mouth of the crick. An American flag proudly waved in the breeze and welcomed us to Kingston.

No sooner than we had turned into the crick did we see the Hudson River Maritime Museum. And – this is really cool – even before we cruised past the Museum, a large sloop with many sails (not in use) and about twenty people milling around on the deck motored past us. I noticed that the dinghy attached to the stern read “Clearwater”, then noticed that the sloop itself had the name “Clearwater” printed on the stern. How cool is that! We came within 10 to 15 feet of Pete Seeger’s historic Hudson River craft, The Clearwater. Don’t tell me you have never heard of this vessel. Okay, if you grew up west of the Mississippi, maybe you have a weak excuse for this gap in knowledge. But wherever you live, if you have an interest in keeping our waters clean and/or cleaning up the pollution in our rivers and lakes, you must know about the Hudson River Sloop Clearwater, which was established by Seeger and others in 1966. This organization has done amazing work to clean up the pollution in the Hudson River and its tributaries. Don McLean (American Pie) was one of its first crew members. To this day the Clearwater is used to conduct environmental education programs for school groups, as it sails up and down the Hudson River. And yesterday, the Admiral and I had our brush with fame, as we cruised past this 106 foot long sailboat. Environmental activism is only part of Pete Seeger’s amazing life. Take the time if you have it to read more about him, and next time you hear mention of the Almanac Singers (Pete Seeger, Millard Lampell, Cisco Houston, Butch and Bess Lomax Hawes, Lee Hays, Woody Guthrie), hum a little bit of Songs for John Doe or Talking Union under your breath. Oh, I suppose you can sing “If I Had a Hammer” too, if you know that better. If you have watched any PBS at all in your life, you know Pete Seeger. And you are one of the lucky ones.

Just when we thought it didn’t get any better than passing the Clearwater, the Admiral pulled up to the Rondout Yacht Basin, which was full of weekend boaters. He had been talking with the dock master about where to tie up, and he was told he could just tie up temporarily to the outer dock to look over the situation before tying up permanently. The “situation” was a space on the inside face dock, at the end of a long line of slips on both sides, filled with boats of various sizes. The space was where one dock met another dock at right angles, and the Admiral was going to have ease Slow Motion down the narrow lane between the slips, then make a turn on a dime to back into the space along the inside of the face dock. By the time we had made it half way down the water path past the slips, all eyes were transfixed on the Admiral and on Slow Motion. It looked like we were attempting the impossible, taking a very large vessel into a very small space with no margin for error. The Admiral did not flinch, as he rounded the corner of the slips and started backing toward right angle of the two docks. The folks on the docks and on their boats had already stopped what they were doing, and by this point they were just holding their breath and praying for us. The Admiral continued the backing motion until Slow Motion’s stern was within a few feet of the docks, and her bow was clear of all the boats in the slips. I threw the stern line to the dock master, and in quick order ran up the starboard side of the boat throwing or handing the spring lines and the bow line to other volunteer dock hands who had materialized. This docking was perfect! As we secured the lines, one woman walked by and said: “I have never seen such a work of art in my life. Your boat handling was amazing.!” The woman who worked at the marina met us at the office and called the Admiral’s docking “masterful”.  Aw, shucks, said the self-effacing Admiral, as he sort of blushed and beamed at the same time.  

We’re staying at Rondout Yacht Basin until Labor Day. Then who knows? In the meantime, we’re going to explore the Hudson River Valley by land. And you will have a front row seat to our adventures. Be kind to your waterways, wherever you live, and you may some day be able to fish, boat, and swim in them again without fear of bacterial infection or worse.

 

 

 

CHAPTER NINETY FIVE: HUDSON RIVER STORIES – FROM THE POLITICAL TO THE PERSONAL

CHAPTER NINETY FIVE: HUDSON RIVER STORIES – FROM THE POLITICAL TO THE PERSONAL

I hope you have as much fun reading this chapter as I had living it. Let’s see. We were astounded by the sight of the Statute of Liberty, gobsmacked by the Manhattan Skyline and boarded by the Coast Guard – all in New York City. So what could possibly be more exciting? Try cruising up the Hudson River Valley, the land of Sleepy Hollow, Rip Van Winkle, and the mighty Storm King Mountain. Remember where you were in 1965? This applies to all of you who were ex utero before then. Storm King should ring some bells. Evil Con Ed wanted to destroy Storm King’s profile by cutting away part of it near the Hudson to build a pump storage power generator that would also have had ugly transmission lines across the majestic edifice of Storm King. A group organized as the Scenic Hudson Preservation Coalition sued to stop this travesty, and amazingly, a judge ruled – for the first time ever – that esthetic impacts could be considered in evaluating such large power projects. Having been tied up in litigation for more than a decade, and bereft of any ideas how to make a mangled mountain with protruding power lines attractive, Con Ed threw in the towel in 1979. And get this – they paid the Hudson River Foundation $12 million for all the sleepless nights that Con Ed had caused the Storm King esthetes, who were having nightmares about the disfiguration of the Gateway to the Hudson Highlands. And so, today’s blog starts with a very happy ending, albeit 3 and ½ decades ago. But I’m here to tell you that Storm King is still magnificent. We cruised by the uncut mountain today, and it looked mahvelous, dahling. Okay, okay, it’s hard not to start speaking in New York dialect, even after just a few days in this State. But before I leave the Storm King saga, more recently, in 2011, the New York Police Department rescued 2 Fourth Class cadets from West Point, who were stranded 500 feet up on a southern cliff of the mountain, not yet having mastered the art of rappelling. How plebeian. Yes, I said that, pun intended.

But I’m getting ahead of myself – again. We left Liberty Landing near dawn, and had great views of Manhattan all the way to Yonkers. There was a massive cathedral prominently displayed on the West Side. I googled West Side cathedrals and came up with a few possibilities, then emailed my New York cognoscenti, Barbara and Sondra, to see if I was right – Yes, we were cruising past the Riverside Church. And that rounded towerlike structure nearby (at least from the Hudson, it looks near) was indeed Grant’s Tomb. We passed the pier where Pete Seeger’s Clearwater is often docked, but alas it wasn’t there on Friday morning. We saw ferry boats and water taxis zip by in front of us, behind us, alongside, but once again, we were the only “pleasure boat” in sight. With our Gold Pass from the Coast Guard, however, we were feeling pretty lucky, Mr. Eastwood. The new tower being built at Ground Zero is really beautiful, as is the perennially iconic Empire State Building. We saw the entrances to the Holland Tunnel and the Lincoln Tunnel, and we watched all the commuters race to work on the West Side Highway to make their 8 a.m. appointments. Then we saw the George Washington Bridge. It glistened in the morning light. They must paint that bridge every year. Hello, Gorgeous. I had driven back and forth across that bridge every time I went to and from college in Massachusetts. But I hadn’t seen it in years. I wonder how close Sully landed his plane near this bridge. What an amazing feat! As we approached the GW Bridge, I realized that we were going to make a solo passage under its girders. How special is that! As the teeming masses were crawling across its span, we were gliding underneath them unhindered – probably going slower than they were. We chose this boat name carefully – we travel in Slow Motion, literally and figuratively.

Twenty bridge photos later, we had moved on to the Palisades. These rock faces are impressive from the River. In just a few minutes we went from the nitty gritty city packed with people and skyscrapers to one of nature’s wonders – the basalt cliffs called the Palisades because they look like fortresses. These cliffs were formed about 200 million years ago at the end of the Triassic Period, should anyone ask you. They first appeared on a map of the New World in 1541, based on a description given the map artist Gerardus Mercator by Giovanni da Verrazano, who first remarked upon their resemblance to palisades, or a “fence of stakes.” Their existence was threatened in the 19^th century, when they were mined for railroad ballast. But here’s another environmental success story. Leave it to members of my gender this time. Kudos goes to the New Jersey Federation of Women’s Clubs for spearheading the creation of the Palisades Interstate Park Commission, which acquired the land where the palisades rule and preserved them from further destruction. Anyone remember hearing about The Perils of Pauline? The Palisades were used as the location for this 1914 film serial, from which the term “cliffhanger” became popular. Today the Palisades are relatively safe from development or demolition, since they were designated a “National Natural Landmark” in 1983 by the National Parks Service. Hurray!

We were not done with bridges, after we passed under the GW. Further up the Hudson we saw the elderly, rusting Tappan Zee bridge. And we saw lots of barges and cranes and other construction equipment working on building a new bridge right next to the Tappan Zee. That would explain the total lack of maintenance of the current bridge, which could use a dozen new coats of paint. I had also crossed the Tappan Zee by car many years ago, but this time it was a thrill to cruise under this span – once again alone. Later that day, after we had docked at the Half Moon Bay Marina, I rented a car to go to the closest Labcorp in New City, New York – which is across the river. So, much to my delight I drove across the very bridge I had sailed under a few short hours before. It was a weird feeling. I looked down for boat traffic and saw none. I don’t know where all the other Loopers are, but we definitely cruise to a different drummer.

We are starting to see “snowbirds” flying Canadian flags heading south. They can’t get away from the land of the Maple Leaf too soon, I guess, as they head for their perches in Florida. Are we a colony of Canada? Sometimes it feels that way. First, all their people traverse our highway, byways, and waterways to take over Florida in the winter months. Next, what? Are they going to defile the Midwest landscape for generations to come with a huge oil or natural gas pipeline that is built to fail and spill its guts all over farmland and into the rivers of America’s heartland? Gosh, I never had any prejudice against any Canadians before my travels on Slow Motion. But in the 15 months we have been cruising, we have not had very many, if any, good experiences with the people from the North, who either don’t know the rules of the waterways, ignore them, or simply feel they are above American law. Whichever it is, it is most disconcerting to see a Canadian flag and expect bad behavior. Can you please shape up, dear friends? We promise we’ll go to the single payer system, if you promise to stop “waking” us and disregarding us on the radio. After all, it was so easy to get the Affordable Health Care Act passed, single payer should be a snap!

Moving right along, we were going with the current most of the way to Half Moon Bay, but when we arrived at this marina, the wind had picked up to 15 knots and docking looked like it was going to be hairy. Steve Plotkin, the dock master, was out on the end of the dock waving us in. Apparently he had not been on the dock until then, because he was extremely surprised at the strength of the wind. He was vigorously brushing duck poop off the dock when we first saw him – an occupational hazard, especially at this duck-friendly marina. But when we radioed him, he put his broom aside, and started to motion us into the first slip inside the breakwater. “Breakwater” is a polite term for a structure of wooden slats that is not very effective against the current and the waves that come off the Hudson River. Anyway, as the Admiral pointed his bow into the slip, Steve suddenly waved him off and started shouting: “No, No, don’t go in here! It’s too windy! Go down to the other end of the dock! Back up! I’ll show you!” As you know, there are no brakes on our 19 ton Slow Motion, so it’s one thing to suddenly shout “Change Your Course!” and it’s quite another to do it. Unrattled, the Admiral was able to turn Slo Mo’s bow out of the slip and head down to the other end of the marina. There appeared to be a slight improvement with respect to wind and current. Right across from the newly designated slip, however, was one of those “Clorox Bottle Boats” – the three stories high, 100 foot long, all white mega-yachts that we see in great numbers at the Megadock in Charleston, South Carolina. This yacht made the Admiral’s turning ratio pretty small, but somehow he managed to get Slow Motion into the end slip between two finger docks, one of which was free floating and clanging incessantly against a piling. This part of the dock had not yet been swept, so it was no time to be walking barefoot to secure the lines, or for any other reason. Steve helped us tie up, and once we knew we would get a very strong Wifi signal, most of the other concerns became secondary. Besides, this was the place, Croton on Hudson, where I was going to reunite with Steve and Lyn, whom I had married just 15 short years ago. So nothing was going to dampen that happy occasion, not even some very wet duck poop. Quick aside to Chris Harter and Ed Hazel: No, Steve Plotkin is not related to our very own former prosecutor, Robert Plotkin, although he could be, if you know what I mean.

The next day, Saturday, my first married couple (one of two in my career, both success stories – fingers crossed) arrived with their super-active kids, Dusty and Hazel. The Admiral was wary about allowing a 4 year old and 6 year old to tour Slow Motion, but I assured him that we would hold their hands the entire time, and no one would fall into the water – and equally important, Slow Motion would not be damaged in any way. The visit went beautifully from my vantage point. Lyn and Mike have not aged at all since they were united in wedlock by me in a lovely backyard ceremony in 1998. Okay, Mike’s hair may be a little white – sun-bleached no doubt – but he still has his fresh, boyish smile, and I can still picture him and David on Gentlemen’s Night out with their mother, Cathy, my bestest friend, when they were 6 and 8, and David ordered escargot while Michael guzzled Shirley Temples. What great memories! Back to the boat – Dusty was amazed by the number of levels we had, as he climbed the stairs from the cockpit to the sundeck, then climbed the stairs from the sundeck to the salon, then climbed the stairs from the salon to the master stateroom, then climbed back into the salon to climb the stairs to the forward staterooms, and then re-climbed the stairs to the salon and re-climbed the stairs to the sundeck in order to climb the stairs to the flying bridge – all in 5 seconds, I swear. I was out of breath watching him – and running after him to hold his hand, or any part of his body I could get a hold of. Lyn and Mike were hot on his heels too. Like every younger sister, Hazel was not going to be outdone, so she was never far behind. In short, they had a great time exploring the boat, and the bonus is that they were worn out quickly, so we could sit down to orange crème soda and Milano cookies. Am I nuts? That’s what the Admiral asked me later. I was feeding pure sugar to two kids whose energy levels were off the charts. Well, we had to make new charts after the sugar hit their systems. Did I mention how bouncy our mattress is in our stateroom? I had never thought of it as a trampoline before – but hm. Seriously, for their first time aboard any kind of large boat, I think Dusty and Hazel did great. And the Admiral was benignly tolerant. And Lyn and Mike were very relieved, I’m sure. A good time was had by all.

But that was just the beginning of my visit with MLD and H. They whisked me away to their Cold Spring home, but on the way we stopped at Boscobel, an estate with a spectacular view of the Hudson River as well as apple trees laden with fruit, which were just “falling” off the branches, according to Dusty. He kept running up to Mike with more apples that had just “fallen”, and when Mike’s pockets were full, he had to advise Dusty that there was no more room for any apples, whether they had fallen or not. In the meantime, Hazel was carrying around Mr. Bent, a stuffed animal with a bent ear, and she was kind enough to let me use it as a football. I sent Dusty on a pretty straight rout to the right – no, no, not over the cliff into the Hudson! – and he was able to catch Mr. Bent easily. The estate was setting up for a concert or play that evening, so we were hustled out at 5 p.m. Still, we had the chance to tour the orangeries – I googled the word and found that it is a snooty term for greenhouse, when the greenhouse is on mansion grounds. And we smelled the most aromatic herbs. This was one of many summer homes for the very rich people who came up from New York City. One of the 58 mansions owned by the Vanderbilts is in this area too. Maybe Mike’s and Lyn’s home is not at large or ornate as these estates, but their garden is every bit as good as Boscobel’s. And they have a nearly ripe watermelon, still on the vine filling out. I told them it will be ready on Labor Day. Here’s hoping a woodchuck doesn’t get to it before then. In between Boscobel’s and the MLDH home, we took a quick tour of downtown Cold Spring, which was crawling with weekend visitors from New York City. It is Carmel East. Which is to say it has a lot of great restaurants, some art galleries and tons of boutiques. I was too tired to get out of the car, and I knew the Admiral would have been standing at the steps to Slow Motion checking my bags for any contraband before boarding. He has one simple rule: Do not bring another thing on to this boat!

Now the real purpose of the home visit was to allow me to do our laundry. I had cleared this with Lyn and Mike, and they were gracious enough to let me tote my pillow case stuffed with sheets and dirty clothes to their house to toss them in the washer and dryer, while we caught up on several years of not seeing each other. As the washer spun and rinsed and spun some more, Lyn made bruschetta with heirloom tomatoes and the smoothest, tastiest mozzarella cheese and fresh basil – yum. I didn’t want to ruin my appetite, but they were so good! Lyn’s mother had offered to care for Dusty and Hazel and Mike and Lyn and I went out to dinner. What a peach! We went to the Garrison Country Club restaurant, which has a grand view of the Hudson River and Storm King Mountain. We sat on the patio and watched the sun set. This was after a rough beginning, when a yellow jacket bit Mike’s hand and was going for more of his flesh on his torso. They bite, they don’t sting, and Mike is somewhat allergic. I whipped out the Benadryl, the waiter ran for some ice, and Mike surveyed the damage. He had been shocked by the bite, and the yellow jacket had been shocked by Mike’s cry of pain and his jumping back from the table. Mike was able to wrestle it to the ground, and it disappeared between two slats on the deck – presumed dead. But that yellow jacket was a distant memory when the entrees arrived. Mike and I had the fresh fettuccine dish and Lyn had Long Island Sea Bass. Both dishes were prepared with the best flavors cooked into the ingredients. I have never had fettuccine like that before – it was the bomb. Lyn and Mike “made” me get dessert to share with them – double chocolate, heath bar “sauce” and rich coffee ice cream. Don’t dwell on the image – it will make you fat. When we finished this feast, it was almost my bedtime (8:30 p.m.) and I still had to get the wash out of the dryer at their house. We went back to Cold Spring, and all was quiet throughout the house. I folded and packed my clean, clean sheets and clothes, and sadly, it was time to end the reunion.  

Mike drove me back to Slow Motion and escorted me to the boat. He is still the sweetest young man. Both he and David, his brother, are so smart and talented, have great senses of humor and chose extremely well in their mates for life. Michael shared something with me that was heartbreaking, but at the same time shows the resilience of every child of divorce. I will not share it with you, as it is very personal. But, Michael, thank you very much for giving me more insight into your childhood years. You and David and Cathy were/are my California family, and I have always treasured every minute I have shared with each of you.

There is so much to tell you about our Sunday cruise from Half Moon Bay to Rondout Yacht Basin, but that will have to wait until the next chapter. Just know that the Admiral greeted me with open arms last night, and I am blessed to be able to share this traveling life with him.