The Fantastic Voyage of the ELIZA ANDERSON

Sidewheeler Eliza Anderson
ON 7967
Built in Portland, Oregon in 1859.
This photograph, undated. 
Credit line to the 
Steamship Historical Society of America, Inc.
7967-1859.
Photo postcard from the archives of the 
Saltwater People Historical Society©

"She was the ungainliest vessel ever to undertake such a daunting journey. The voyage was to be her last, and for her passengers, the terrors of near-disaster on the open seas briefly erased whatever desire for gold that prompted them to rush for the Klondike.

Her name was the Eliza Anderson, a sidewheel steamboat built before the Civil War. Operated in the fall of 1897 by the Alaska Commercial Co, the relic was one of a polyglot collection of ships hastily gathered to meet the unprecedented demand engendered by the Yukon gold rush. Her destination was St. Michael, Alaska – 850 miles from Seattle via the North Pacific to Kodiak, thence 650 miles to Unalaska, navigating 750 miles on the turbulent Bering Sea. At St. Michael, the passengers would rendezvous with riverboats for the additional 1,700-mile journey up the Yukon to Dawson City.

In Seattle, hoots and jeers of on-lookers greeted the incredulous passengers who had paid exorbitant rates for passage on the all-water route. Typical of the feverish times, the ungainly 140-foot-long sidewheeler was sorely overloaded. Wooden-hulled and 279 gross tons, the Eliza Anderson was built in 1859 in Portland, OR. She now hardly inspired confidence, propelled by ancient sidewheels in cumbersome paddle boxes, her 25-foot beam and nine-foot depth designed for shallow northwest rivers. That she would risk a 2,300-mile ocean voyage speaks of the audacity of her owners, the gold fever of the public, and the prowess of her officers.

In charge was Capt. Tom Powers, a seasoned Atlantic skipper persuaded two former shipmates to join him - Capt. Arthur Leighton, as a first mate, and Capt. Bill Tedford, as second officer. They commanded a motley collection of able seamen well-versed in meeting the exigencies of the high seas. It was the experience that compensated for the vessel's woeful inadequacy, for the Eliza Anderson lacked modern boilers, water condensers, and electricity. Her top speed was barely eight knots an hour. To augment her meager carrying capacity, she was joined by the ocean-going tug Richard Holyoke, which towed the large Politkofsky a cut-down, 1866-vintage Russian man-of-war, the river steamer W.K. Merwin, and Seattle businessman John Hansen's pleasure yacht Bryant. The Eliza Anderson Expedition was underway, and an odd cavalcade it was.

By the time they reached the first leg up the Inside Passage to Metlakatla, AK, the decrepit condition of the Eliza Anderson was manifest. Passenger discontent, however, got nowhere with Capt. Powers, who bluntly announced that passage would not be refunded to anyone who left ship before St. Michael. What fight his passengers possessed, promptly dissipated into seasickness as the ancient craft and her retinue lumbered through Dixon Entrance into open sea.

Five days later, black storm clouds loomed as the expedition entered Kodiak. There she commenced coaling, while cannery and government port officials vainly remonstrated with Capt. Powers to wait out the gathering storm. Vowing to make St. Michael on schedule regardless of weather, the Eliza Anderson cast off followed by the Richard Holyoke and her triple tow. Their departure was observed by five passengers who had lost their appetite for gold-seeking and abandoned the expedition.

And now the terror began, as the antiquated sidewheeler struggled in the growling swells. Like a child's toy, she skidded and tossed, wallowing in the troughs, threatening to be crushed at any moment by the massive waves sweeping across her. Kerosene lamps were extinguished in the social hall, as knots of frightened passengers huddled in the darkness to exchange solace, liquor, or prayers.

The superstructure cracked and groaned, the pumps choked with coal dust and the hold threatened to fill with water. China pumps were jury-rigged and manned by shifts of passengers anxious to do something active for the preservation of the vessel and their lives. The port rudder chain parted, and steering was restored only by the precariously accomplished rigging of relieving tackle.

On the second day of the storm, rockets were ordered fired, but the Eliza was separated from her accompanying tow. As the storm intensified, word came from the engine room that the coal supply was nearing depletion. As doors, furniture, and partitions, were ripped down for the furnace, two stewards boys were lashed to the bow structure to dash cups of crude oil against the on-rushing waves. Helpful for a while, this supply, eventually ran out. 

At this juncture, with all but one lifeboat swept away, and the skipper preparing to order abandonment of the ship, that a storybook miracle occurred. A powerfully built stowaway with the visage of an ancient Norse mariner emerged from somewhere out of the cramped, reeling ship. Making his way to the pilothouse, he wrested control of the wheel from the astonished mate, turned the Eliza Anderson around, and made straight for the rock-lined shore of Kodiak Island. Just as disaster seemed imminent, the beleaguered vessel rounded a point and entered a sheltered cove, the size of an abandoned cannery. Later he vanished when the grateful passengers sought to present their mysterious savior with a collected reward. 

After completing repairs and hauling a coal supply aboard from an on-shore bunker, the Eliza Anderson limped into Unalaska. Ther the company purser ordered the ship abandoned due to lack of coal and the absence of the Politkofsky. Fearing the sidewheeler lost with all hands, the towline skipper aboard the Holyoke had reported the loss at Unalaska and had steamed on for St. Michael the week before. While Capt. Powers colored the air with rage, vowing St. Michael would otherwise have been reached on schedule, his trusted mates and exhausted passengers and crew transferred to the whaling schooner Baranoff. The Klondikers would reach their goal, albeit a year later, after a winter spent in steamboats locked in Yukon River ice. Others with a change of heart departed immediately for Seattle, spilling the story of the Eliza Anderson's fantastic voyage to eager newspapermen.

And what became of the Eliza? Beached and forgotten, the relic of a bygone era, she was quickly stripped of anything salvageable. But she had weathered the storm, a fitting climax to a long career of Pacific Northwest service, and a wonderous footnote to the story of the Klondike Gold Rush."

Words by Scott Eckberg for The Sea Chest, membership journal of the
Puget Sound Maritime Society, Seattle, WA.

LOCATING THE SITE FOR THE BREMERTON NAVY YARD ❖ ❖ 1889

BREMERTON NAVY YARD 
crop of a 3-panel
photograph by Romans, 1908.
click on image to enlarge. 
from the archives of the 
Saltwater People Historical Society©

"The need for a first-class navy yard on the PNW coast of the USA was eagerly desired by the Navy Department. When the “White Fleet” consisting of the cruisers Chicago, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and Yorktown, were being built or would be building. A commission of navy officers was appointed by the President to proceed to Puget Sound and adjacent waters and pick out the most available place for a naval station.
      The personnel of the commission appointed were the late Capt. A.T. Mahan, USN., the celebrated writer on "Sea Power;" Commander Chester, the present retired rear admiral; and Lieutenant Commander Stockton, afterward, rear admiral. The late Rear Admiral Uriel Sebree, USN, who was at that time Lighthouse Inspector of the 13th District (now the 17th District) was added to the above-named commission
       On their arrival at Seattle, they boarded the Lighthouse steamer Manzanita, commanded by Capt. Charles Richardson with William E. Gregory, first officer, the late Harry C. Lord, chief engineer, and Alfred Rickards, assistant engineer. On the day following their arrival at Seattle, the Manzanita left the ocean dock (now Pier B) and steamed towards Port Townsend, Port Angeles, and Dungeness.
        After having examined these places the Manzanita proceeded to Fairhaven where a stop was made. A committee of citizens presented to the officers for their approval what they termed an ideal site for a navy yard— a place called Chuckanut. From Fairhaven the Manzanita steamed through Ship Harbor, Deception Pass, and the site of Everett, thence returning to Seattle for mail and supplies.
        On the following Monday morning, the Manzanita again left Seattle and proceeded to Tacoma, where a delegation of prominent businessmen boarded the steamer and requested the naval committee to investigate Gig Harbor and Quarter Master Harbor in that vicinity, as they thought either of the locations mentioned would be a good place to locate the naval station. After examining the two sites, the Manzanita proceeded to Olympia and Nisqually Flats before again returning to Seattle. Here a group of the leading men of the town boarded the steamer and requested the naval committee to inspect the waters of Lakes Union and Washington.
        With the Seattle delegation on board, the Manzanita steamed down to the entrance to Shilshole Bay, where the party boarded a steam launch to be taken through Salmon Bay, and to land about where the municipal bridge is now, and walked to Lake Union where another launch took the party to Lake Washington. A portage was made to Lake Washington, where the old sidewheeler Kirkland was waiting; on boarding her, the Kirkland proceeded through the lake, stopping at intervals to allow soundings to be taken under the direction of Capt. Pratt of the Coast Survey, first mate Gregory, and Capt. Harris, a junior officer of the coast survey steamer Gedney, later of the Pacific Coast Steamship Co. On board the Kirkland, a most elaborate luncheon was served with champagne, cocktails, etc, with very much evidence showing even at the time of 1889, that the “Seattle Spirit” was flourishing. The greatest depth of water found by the Manzanita’s leadsman on board the Kirkland was thirty-eight fathoms. The lake was thoroughly surveyed a short time ago by the coast survey and probably deeper water was found.
        A few days later, the Manzanita steamed to Port Orchard, where a short visit was made to the wharf at Sidney, the present Port Orchard, and one or two prominent men of that village were taken on board when the Manzanita steamed over to the other side of the bay and anchored off the site of “the Bremerton Navy Yard.” All members of the commission were landed and walked up the hill to a small white house, centering in about an acre of cleared ground, and held a conversation with the occupant of the house. One can look back and see the little white farmhouse and the wild trees, bushes, and vegetation of the place at the time, and then glance at the magnificent navy yard that is there now with its immense dry docks, wharves, repair shops, marine barracks, storehouses, etc., with some of the largest and finest battleships in the world either anchored in the Bay in or lying alongside the immense wharves and thousands of workmen employed the year around looking after the needs of these battleships and the other units of the USN —and wonder.
        On the return of the Manzanita from Seattle the naval commission left for the City of Washington where they submitted a voluminous report to the Secretary of the Navy with their findings that Bremerton was their choice for a site for a naval station. The Bay had plenty of deep anchorages and the whole place could be easily defended; besides it was close to a growing and thriving town –– Seattle, where plenty of artisans and workmen could be obtained.
        When the report, sent from Washington, reached the northwest, certain interests immediately went to work to block the location and the opposition became so intense that President Harrison appointed another commission to go over the same ground and to report their finding as soon as possible. This commission was composed of Captain (later Admiral) Selfridge, USN, Senator Tom Platt of New York, and Ex-Secretary of the Navy Thompson. Once more the Lighthouse steamer Manzanita was detailed to convey people over the same course the proceeding commission had traveled. Once more the second group endorsed the site that the first commission had chosen – Bremerton.
        After the usual delays, work was at last started on the new naval station, the old sloop of war Nipsic was anchored in the Bay about opposite where the first dry dock was being built under the direction of Lieut. White, USN, civil engineer in charge, Commander Morong, in command of the Nipsic, with Liut. R. C. Hollyday assistant. The contractors for the drydock work were Messrs. Balow, Blackwell, and Dugan. The first drydock was built of lumber and was known as the Simpson plan.
        After the work had been underway, a difference of opinion in driving the pilings arose between the engineer in charge and the contractors. Work was stopped until the arrival of the Secretary of the Navy, H.A. Herbert. The Lighthouse tender Manzanita was detailed to take the Secretary and party on board... On the arrival of this group, the Secretary of the Navy's flag was hoisted to the main truck, so to the little lighthouse tender Manzanita goes the honor of bearing the Secretary of the Navy's flag for the first time it was shown in the Pacific Coast northwest waters, Secretary Herbert being the first Secretary of the Navy to officially visit the northwest.
        The first step after the tender left Seattle was at Port Townsend where an address of welcome was made by Judge H.A. Ballinger. The next stop was at Fairhaven. From there, the Manzanita returned to Seattle while the Secretary and his party went to Everett via the Great Northern. The Secretary's party joined the Manzanita when they returned to Seattle and the following day the tender proceeded to Bremerton. On arrival at the Navy Yard, the Secretary immediately got in touch with the engineer in charge, and the contractors and a pile were placed in position, ready for driving.

        The first pile driven, while the Secretary was looking on, was 20 feet long and was struck 84 blows and the penetration was only 7.5 feet. The second pile was about the same length and was struck with the same number of blows but it ceased to go down any further. The specifications called for the piles to be struck with an 8000-pound hammer in a fall of 25 feet, they would not sink over one-quarter of an inch the last blow.

        The finding of the Secretary was that the contractors must try to drive the piles deeper and proceed with the plan as insisted on by the engineer in charge.

        A luncheon on board the Nipsic was next and four musicians discoursed some excellent music. The Nipsic will be remembered for the heroic struggle she made during the hurricane at Samoa when the United States frigates Trenton and Vandalia were wrecked and some of their crews were lost. Two German corvettes were also lost and the old Nipsic was driven ashore, but was afterward hauled off.

        The Manzanita with the party on board returned to Seattle and the following morning left for Tacoma. Here the Secretary was taken in charge by the reception committee and he had "resources" talked to him till his eyes stuck out, and the trip to and around Quartermaster Harbor and back to Tacoma he listened to the praises of the State of Washington, Tacoma, and Puget Sound. 

        The following day the Secretary and his party left over the Great Northern for Washington and the Manzanita returned to her regular lighthouse duties."

Captain William E. Gregory
writer of this essay on 
locating the site of the 
Bremerton Navy Yard,
1889.
From the archives of the 
SPHS.©

Words by Captain William E. Gregory, once a widely-known master of the North Pacific.

This abridged essay was published by an unknown Seattle newspaper and also by the Marine Digest, Seattle, in 1927. 

This hand-typed document is from Capt. Gregory's estate, courtesy of descendant Dan MacGillivary for the Saltwater People Historial Society. 

US Navy Repair Ship MEDUSA
Launched on the 32 anniversary 
of the establishment of the 
Puget Sound Naval Shipyard,
abstract of title to the Navy Yard property,
 having been delivered to Lt. Wyckoff, 
 acting for the Secretary of the Navy,
on 16 April 1891.
Building cost, $4,000,000.
483' 10.5" LOA, 70' x 19' (loaded)
Displacement tonnage ca. 10,000 . 
Original photo from the archives of the
Saltwater People Historical Society©
U.S.S. Medusa notes from H.W. McCurdy's Marine History 
of the Pacific Northwest. Superior. 1966

Bremerton Navy Yard
Dated 22 June 1931.
FAST WORKERS 

This year the cruiser Louisville was built 
in record time for construction of cruisers, 
and now a new record for speedy work in 
building a new reinforced concrete dry dock,
652 ft long and 120 ft wide in only four months.
The project was approved by Congress as part 
of the emergency construction program to relieve
unemployment. The average number of men 
employed was 23 and the maximum was 310.
The project involved demolition of an old timber 
dock and building of the new one, 13 ft longer, 
in its place, at $400,000.
Associated Press Photo
From the archives of the
Saltwater People Historical Society©

BREMERTON NAVY YARD
Dated 23 April 1948
MOTHBALL FLEET AT MOORAGE
Click image to enlarge.
These inactivated ships, described by 
Navy officials as the largest 
"mothball fleet" of major vessels at any 
navy yard, lie at naval shipyard piers here.
Fron to rear carriers, Essex, Ticonderoga,
Yorktown, Lexington, Bunker Hill. 
Left background, battleships, cruisers,
destroyers; extreme center background,
carrier Bon Homme Richard. 
AP Wirephoto from the archives of the 
Saltwater People Historical Society©

Bremerton, Washington.
Dated 23 April 1962
The aircraft carrier Kearsarge 
enters the world's largest drydock located
at the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard. 
Built for $23 million, and big enough
 to hold the largest battleship 
man has ever built, the drydock was 
dedicated today.
Click image to enlarge. 
AP Wire photo from the archives of 
the Saltwater People Historical Society©

22 October 1971
The battleship MISSOURI,
 attracted more than 185,000
to the Naval Shipyard at 
Bremerton last year, was moved 
into drydock to have her hull scraped 
and painted –– a $350,000 project.
The Japanese signed surrender papers
on the ship 7 September 1945, 
ending WW II.
Commissioned in June 1944, the 
Missouri steamed more than 500,000 mi
during WW II and the Korean War. 
The Missouri was decommissioned in Feb. 1955.
Original photo from the archives of 
the Saltwater People Historical Society©

        

BIG PACKARD ENGINES RUNNING FOR HOME.

 

The San Juan Islands
Souvenir Year Book
1930
Published by the
San Juan Islands 
Publicity Bureau
Anacortes, WA.
Click to enlarge.
Original booklet from the 
S.P.H.S. library.

"Even though this was just another trip among the hundreds that we had already made, the adrenalin was burning my stomach sour, it always did, even when the load was gone. Everything done now was done with careful thought; there could be no mistakes. Cold –– it was always cold and dark this time of year in the late afternoon, and the dawn was hours away. Good weather for what we were doing. The mist was swirling about us, visibility only a few hundred yards; the problem was, it worked both ways. The cutter could happen upon us as easily as not, then it would be a desperate run to get out of range and out of sight.

The diesel is muffled and quiet at this speed; the exhaust is muted due to its location beneath the sea; however, if we have to start the big Packards, all that will change. They are warm and should start instantly; we run them up once every hour until we have crossed the line somewhere between D'Arcy Island and San Juan. The darkness pulls at my eyes; we cannot afford the luxury of going below decks, for the winter tide brings out the deadheads. We are loaded with one hundred and fifty cases of scotch whisky that is to be delivered just south of Anacortes tonight.

I turn my head slightly so that I see out of the side of my eye; peripheral vision picks up any small change in light, and it has been as black as the inside of a barrel for what seems like hours. Turn Point slides by on the starboard side, and if we had running lights the keeper would see us, but we are not advertising and it is doubtful that even if anyone knew we were here they would not see us - no lights, muffled exhaust, and a hull painted a dark maroon that blends into the blackness.

It has taken hours to work our way to the rendezvous point, but at least the unloading will warm us up. A shaded light flashes from the shore, twice rapidly and once after a pause - tonight's signal. We drop the anchor and wait for the smaller boat to come out to us. It takes four trips to carry all the cargo ashore, but so far it has been an easy trip, the tide is out, and with any luck, we should be back in Victoria Harbor by dawn.

Now clear of the area, it is time to start the big Packard aircraft engines and run for home; daylight is not a good time to be seen in these waters. I start up the first engine; the noise always surprises me, and the second engine is that much louder. The surge of power throws the boat ahead; we are doing twenty knots with another fifteen in reserve. If the weather holds; if the Coast Guard cutter hasn't planned an ambush; if we don't tear a hole in the hull on a deadhead; if we don't take out a prop on driftwood, it will be a piece of cake. My eyes strain to see the water ahead, watching for the kelp that mark reefs and the debris that every winter tide pulls off the beach; the wind tears at my face and the cold is penetrating; the temperature can only be a few degrees above freezing. Every fourth or fifth wave sends bullets of icy spray back over the wheelhouse; the steering window is open and the spray cuts like a knife. The fog is lifting and the wind has begun to pile the waves into ever-increasing humps that we feel through our legs.

US Coast Guard 
ready for action during prohibition years, 
near Anacortes, Skagit County, WA.
Click to enlarge and view the foredeck.
Photo from the archives of the 
Saltwater People Historical Society©

The light is coming up behind us and the Coast Guard cutter stands out from the land as it rounds the point ahead – he must have been laying in Roche Harbor. The cutter can only hope to sandwich us against South Pender; he knows he can't outrun us, but if he can get close enough to use his one-pound cannon we could be in trouble. We have sea room to manoeuvre and I run the boat up to thirty knots, at this speed, the impact of each wave hammers up through the hull and adds to the din of the engines in full race. A round from the one-pounder raises a plume of water slightly behind us off the port side, the sound drowned by the howl of the engines. We are gaining ground but a turn to the southwest is necessary very soon. We have the distance and the boat heels as the rudder throws us to the starboard lean and we make the turn to port that will take us across Haro Strait. Today we will not return to Victoria, that would just lead to awkward questions from the customs people.

We are out of range and I bring the power back to the twenty-knot cruise range that will give us time to steer around any debris. It would have been nice to have avoided the encounter with the Coast Guard, we could have gone quietly home to a hot bath and to relax. Our extended journey is part of the price we must pay. It will be an hour before my ears stop ringing from the thunderous howl of the big power plants."

Words by Richard S. Soley
Vintage Vessels of British Columbia
Power and Sail, Work and Pleasure

The Classic Wooden Boats of a Bygone Era.

Book donated by the crew of the 1930 Geary-designed Danae, featured with a Rigging Card within this book. 

HAPPY WINNER -- STAR CLASS WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS 1971

 

DENNIS CONNER,
of San Diego, CA. 
Winner of the Star Class 
World Championships, 
Seattle, Washington,
September 1971.
Click the image to enlarge.
AP Wirephoto catches a happy sailor
who didn't finish first in the race, 
but he finished first with total points
for the week of sailing on 
 Puget Sound waters. 
Lowell North, San Diego, 
finished second.

The Star class winner of 1936 can be viewed here

A CHIEF BOATSWAIN MATE to the PHILLIPINES

Tug LT 218
155'  Uniflow steam tug

Bob Schoen's first vessel for his 
USCG war-time duty
in the South Pacific

A photo from his private collection.

"War Years" by Robert Schoen

In 1946 he was married and sailing Chantey to a new home on Orcas Island, San Juan Archipelago, WA. He lived the rest of his life with a home base of Clam Harbor, West Sound, Orcas Island, San Juan Archipelago, WA.

"My name is Robert F. Schoen, pronounced Shane. I lived in Seattle at 10th and Ravennna Blvd. I went to University Heights grade school, John Marshall Jr High, and Roosevelt High School, graduated 1936, and the University of Washington (the war intervened.) When I went to high school we were living in the Kirkland area of the east side of Lake Washington, Holmes Pt. Drive. I was boat CRAZY. 

        During high school I met John Adams and Anchor Jensen, we all had a love of sailing. Bill Garden was our mentor and teacher. Jack Kutz, John Adams, and I, all had 28 ft. boats. Kutz had a gaff-headed cutter, John had a clinker double-ended teak lifeboat schooner, and I had a v-bottom John Hannah ketch, gaff main, marconi mizzen.
        We were out cruising every moment we could get away, winter and summer. We learned to sail our boats well. I joined the Coast Guard on August 1, 1941. Kutz went into the Navy, and Adams finished his architecture at the U of WA, then entered the Navy as an officer.
        My boating experience served me well. I went into the Coast Guard because I wanted to work in small boats. I was stationed in West Seattle after 7 December 1941. I was made Chief Boatswain Mate before I was transferred from Seattle to California, 1942. From Government Island, Oakland, CA., we were sent to Borneo. Several weeks later we arrived at Hollandia for our assignment vessel, a 155-foot Uniflow steam Tug, LT 218.
        We were in the invasion of the Philipines, towing three barges of aviation gas to White Beach, near Tacloban.
        I had never seen so many ships of every kind, over 10,000 boats, rather exciting. Our tug broke down when we returned to Hollandia. It looked like it would be a long wait. I opted to take a transfer and went to Samar and duty on a U.S. Army F, boat at a P.T. base. We followed behind the P.T. boats as they strafed the Japanese-held islands. We supplied fuel and ammo and at times carried Japanese prisoners back to the base at Samar.
        We stopped at Iloilo, where the Army was mopping up the Japanese soldiers in the village. We were across a river away from the fighting. From there we went to Zamboango and waited for an escort to take us to BallyPan, Borneo.
        I met Jack Kutz in Hollandia. He was on a seaplane tender there. It was great to see him, someone from HOME, an old friend.
        From Hollandia I went to Manilla where the Philipine sailors took over the boat. In Manilla we boarded a transport for San Francisco, and then home by train to Seattle. November 19, 1945, I was discharged from the Coast Guard. It was a great experience to be in the Coast Guard and I am proud of it."