John Callaghan News

A modest event designed as a get-together for commercial workboat operators in upstate New York is now celebrating 20 years as a three-day community festival.On September 11, 1999, local resident John Callaghan had an idea to bring in some friends who ran tugs on the Hudson River and NYS Canal System for a quick one-day get together, right at the entrance to the famed Erie Canal. Callaghan, then a tug captain himself for the state canal system, brought in seven tugs and cooked several dozen hot dogs.

You'd think it would be easy to start a tugboat museum. First, get an old tugboat. Clean-up some rust with a pad of coarse steel wool, slap-on a coat of paint, and presto, you're ready to sit in the booth and sell tickets. Everyone would applaud your efforts because, first, everyone loves tugboats and all they represent - solid construction and earnest purpose, hard work and benevolent contributions to civilization. And second, because old tugboats, all spiffied-up, are handsome sights, an alluring environmental decoration wherever they're found. And third, because the design of tugboats, like most of society's tools, has undergone great change, and the old ones are dying-off fast. You'd think everyone would support your labors at preserving a noble cultural heritage.

Of all the waterways in fable and lore, the Erie Canal is famed least for its maritime nature. Lake Superior may have swallowed the Edmund Fitzgerald, and the North Atlantic holed the Titanic, but they sing of the Erie Canal for a mule named Sal. The triumph of the canal was over land, not water. Fully 363 miles long, scaling mountains 500 ft. above sea-level with 83 locks, fording natural rivers on aqueducts or "water bridges," it was a pick and shovel and trowel job of a stupendous scale, so grandiose that some called it madness. Yet the original "Clinton's Ditch" helped write the destiny of North America, so greatly that in return it required expansion and major rebuilding twice, within its first ninety years.

It's been a rough year for tugmeets. Charleston, Boston, and Portland, whose Musters we've covered in the past, were respectively, skipped, canceled, and postponed. The World Ship Society tells us they'll be back next year with the Boston event, and the Portland muster, pre-empted by Hurricane Charlie, is taking place as this is written. We wish we could have gone north. While there are all sorts of good reasons to attend a tugmatch, we, being media people, think mostly about the good press they bring the business. The way things are shaping-up in such realms as national security, the price of fuel, environmental cleanliness and such, waterborne transport displays more and more advantage for the good of all.

There's N.Y., and there's N.Y., N.Y. They are as unalike as two places can be. One is upstate, the other is downstate. One is composed of small and medium-size towns, the other ranks with the biggest cities in the world. One is a land laced with rivers and canals, the other occupies islands on one of the Atlantic's broadest harbors. Attitudes and styles are different in both places, too. Ed Koch, a television personality who once campaigned for governor, can tell you from experience that a big-city boy never mentions "gingham dresses" north of White Plains. Waterford and Manhattan are a three-hour ride apart, two if you speed, but even the language sounds different in both places. But they both have their tugboats. And everyone loves tugboats.