Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 294, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 December 1913 — ON NEW YORK [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

ON NEW YORK

IT IS more than a hundred years since the first ferry began plying upon the Hudson river between New York and Jersey City, and in that period how many tragedies have been enacted on the bosom of the turbulent water about Manhattan! Since that time many ferry lines have been established and from tiipe to time each boat has been the scene of occurences which in turn stirred the heart or excited the risibilities of the spectators—all combining to make up a romance of life to which the flat dweller in the big cities are complete strangers, but with which suburban residents are quite familiar. “I have witnessed many strange occurrences during my forty years’ experience on the ferry boats in Manhattan waters,” said a retired captain to a reporter. “The life of a ferryman is not a prosiac one, you may be sure. If I could write a book incorporating haljf I’ve seen and heard —aye, even a third of the happenings, humorous, sad, tragical and otherwise—the best seller in the book stores wouldn’t be in it. After all, it is the relation of the little things of life which come home to us forcibly, rather than the big things, which affect us most. . ..." Meeting of Two Brothers. The veteran ferryman recalled an incident on a ferry in the early ’7os which interested him immensely. He saw two men seated opposite each other on the lower deck. One was well dressed, the other evidently a worker in some factory. Suddenly the well dressed man raised his eyes and found the worker staring at him. Both leaned forward and presently they arose and approached each other. "I had an idea they were going to mix matters,” said the captain, “and I was standing by to take a hand to prevent bloodshed, when, to my surprise, they fell into each other's arms and embraced like a couple of old women. The mystery was soon explained, for they were brothers who had lost track of each other for more than thirty years. One had got rich in Montana, while the other kept pegging away at his trade and got poorer every day in proportion as his family increased. Those two brothers went away arm in arm, and I later heard that the family of the poorer brother was living ‘on Easy street’ somewhere near Huguenot, S. I. "Perhaps two-thirds of the people who go to Staten island often observed, some years ago, a pretty woman dresed in black, who never was seen on the boat without a small bouquet of forget-me-nots, immortelles or roses. She would take her seat on the port side of the upper deck aft and just as the boat passed Governor’s island -she would kiss the bouquet several times, then toss it into the water as far as she could throw it. She was a pretty little woman, with dark eyes that shone like brilliants, and which filled you with inexpressible sadness every time she looked at you. She wore a crepe bonnet with a fringe of white illusion, which gave to her Madonna like face a lofty expression of deep sorrow yet calm and patient resignation, such as I’ve never seen before nor since.” “What was her secret?"

“I heard one day that her husband had jumped off one of the Staten island boats near the island, and his wife, whom he had’left destitute, was prompted by her love to take this method of decorating his watery grave.

“One day she threw her bouquet Into the water as usual, and as I watched she vaulted over the rail suddenly and sank like a plummet, never to rise agalw. We got a boat out, but shl that we teund was her little crepe bonnet, and I have it at home now among other sad souvenirs which I’ve been collecting for forty years." Philosophy of Suicide.

The relation of this incident prompted the veteran ferryman to discuss ths weaknesses that lead people to s/iicide. Why do disappointed men an<‘ women destroy themselves bjf' leap, ng from moving craft into

the cold waters of the lower bay? Can there be seated upon the various islands passed by the ferry steamers Loreleis whose witching songs lure the despondent to doom? x "No,” resumed the captain, “it is the romance hidden in every human soul which asserts Itself In persons who are temperamentally weak and forces] them to the performance of this las t despairing act in circumstances which might be deemed theatrical, but which are, in fact, extremely natural. There is the clouded sky, dense darkness, myriads of white caps flying swiftly by, resembling a shroud whose color and form are ever changing; the steamer plowing its way through the foam crested waves, the silence of the black night, broken only by the rhythmical hum of the machinery and the dreary sobs escaping from the exhaust pipes. “Pretty soon there Is a hubbub, a scream or two, some shouts, and a smothered cry as a woman springs over the rail, to be swallowed up by the waves, leaving no trace behind. The romance of life, begun perhaps under happy auspices, has found its fulfillment in a plunge and the word ’Finis' is written when the body after having lain on a slab In the morgue for many days without being Identified is deposited in Mother Earth. The tragedy of a life has qome to a close and then comes —oblivion.” The captain was reminded of the incident of a young couple who one day several years ago went aboard a Staten island ferry steamer in the greatest haste. At their heels came a clerical looking man, evidently a minister. Just as the boat pulled out of the slip a carriage was driven wildly into the ferry house and an elderly man, springing therefrom, ran to the end of the slip, shouting for the ferry to return. “Of course we kept right on,” laughed the captain. “I was wondering what had occasioned the chase when the clerical looking gentleman came to me and asked if I would be a witness to a marriage. I couldn’t refuse, and he led me to the women’s cabin, where stood as fine a looking couple as ever were spliced. A woman passenger consented to act as bridesmaid while I served as best man. “I later heard that the young bride .was the daughter of a wealthy man who had refused his consent to her marriage with a clerk in his employ. But love laughs at locksmiths, they say, and in this Instance the laugh was on the old man, who was shaking his fists at us in rage as he stood at the end of the ferry slip. I met the couple several times after that event and I’m happy to say that the old man had become reconciled to his son-in-law and that all turned out happily for all concerned, as the novelists say. “I could tell you a score of similar occurrences, but you might weary of the telling of them in detail. You see and hear all sorts of queer things. One of the oddest animals in the world is the fresh air crank, who persists in walking about on the upper deck in all sorts of weather in the belief that the air is doing him good. One of these chaps used to take his air in this way, and the colder and foggier it was the better he was pleased. He would stand out bareheaded in the mist with his coat open, his head thrown upward as if he really enjoyed it all. Meanwhile others shivered under shelter and fancied they were watching a lunatic. One day this chap failed to show up and I learned he had died of pneumonia. Some how I hadn’t tha slightest sympathy for him.”

HUDSON RIVER SCENE