How a Tyneside Tug Was Reborn for Sea AtKarlKortum's urging, the late Scott Newhall, master mechanic and antiquarian, organized an expedition to England to purchase the last operating paddlewheel tug Reliant and steam her to San Francisco for the museum the two friends had founded two decades earlier. Unable to get the Reliant, which went to England's National Maritime Museum in Greenwich, Newhall bought the derelict burnt-out hulk of another Tyne River tug, the Eppleton Hall of 1914,andsetaboutrebuildingherforthe 11,000-mile voyage to her new home. This account is from Scott Newhall's book The Eppleton Hall, in which he refers to himself as "the Captain." he day the purchase of the Eppleton Hall was agreed to, the Captain worked out his plan of operation. Among the work crew which had flown to Newcastle was a remarkably talented seafaring man, whose abilities encompassed the knowledge, imagination and sheer hard work necessary to transform the ugly Tyne duckling into a vessel of grace and beauty. This unusual individual was William Bartz, a deepsea sailor, both in steam and sail; a bosun extraordinary who, like the Chief Petty Officers in any sound navy, had learned and refined those masterful techniques ofleadership including wheedling, ordering, bullying, requisitioning, working, and outright charlatanism. Bill is the epitome of all great CPOs. He had served for years as able seaman or bosun in merchant ships. He is a perfect example of the hardworking and dedicated genius that the Captain needed ifthe trip to San Francisco were to be successful. Bill , a- gifted ship restorer who had already performed miracles for the San Francisco Maritime Museum, was offered the opportunity of remaining in Newcastle to oversee and direct the renaissance of theEppleton Hall. Gracefully, he accepted and a day later started work on the tremendous job of restoration. Like all Tyne Rivertugs, the Epp le ton Hall was equipped with coal-fired furnaces. And, since coaling stations were disappearing worldwide, the boilers would have to be converted from coal grates to diesel burners. Then , too, the tug had lain in her temporary grave for about a year and a half. Her woodwork had been burned out. The engines , while basically intact, were frozen with rust. They would have to be completely stripped down , cleaned ,
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by Scott Newhall new piston rings installed, and bearings refitted. The boilers would have to be inspected and any thin or fractured plates replaced, as would the hull plating. The interior of the hull was bare, which meant that Bill had to design reasonably comfortable accommodations for twelve crew members. The boat needed new decks, new hatches, new ladders, a new pilothouse, a wheel that was missing, new bulwarks , new watertight doors , new deck frames (which had been warped and twisted out of shape), extra bracing and stronger bulkheads for the open sea. The Eppleton Hall also had to be fitted with a sail rig to take advantage of favorable trade winds for the long Atlantic passage. A complete set of tanks was needed for the diesel fuel, all fittings had to be cleaned and tested, and she needed lifesaving equipment, a radio antenna ana new masts. Bill found a small yard on the south shore of the Tyne which had handled these tugs and kept them running for so many years. The yard, R.B. Harrison & Son, Ltd., could have been a scene out of a Dickens novel. A narrow, cobbled road led down from the entrance gate to the water's edge, passing between two rows of buildings and shops. It was completely self-contained with its own foundry, metal shop, forges, woodworking shop, machine shop, plate and blacksmith shops. A work crew numbering anywhere between twenty and forty was constantly at work cutting away old metal, installing new frames and plates, ripping out rotten areas and cleaning the entire hull. The tug became a magnet for every steam enthusiast in northern England. Not a day passed without a visit from old Northumberland tugboatmen or steam buffs who would march through Harrison ' s yard to look over the progress, take pictures and spin yams. By the end of June most of the cleanup and dismantling had been accomplished. The engines had been reassembled and the work of rebuilding them begun. New paddle floats were installed; new paddle boxes built; new deck frames twice the strength of the originals had been welded from one side to the other. The new diesel-fed oil burners were ready for fitting and a massive steel plate running from bow to stem had been installed to stiffen the Eppleton Hall for her forthcoming deep-sea passage. By this time Bill had assembled enough shipboard fittings to open achandlery, including a beautiful teak wheel-
house and a magnificent mahogany steering wheel which, after some minor surgery, fitted the Eppleton Hall perfectly. Bill was plunging ahead like a destroyer at flank speed. When Harrison's staff had punched out their timecards for the evening, he would go to the blacksmith shop and forge chain plates or eye-bolts himself. He was everywhere at once, barking, cooing, threatening or rewarding. Another staunch character of those hectic days was the surveyor retained by Bill Bartz-J.R.B. Robertson, who was known to all hands as " Robbie." He was a round and smi ling Scotsman who approached all matters with outward delight, but underneath this remarkable joviality there was an iron intellect wrapped in a velvet smi le . Robbie saw to it that the Eppleton Hall did not go to sea unprepared, and his services, together with those of Bill Bartz and Stanley Rooke, the manager of Harrison's, were immeasurable. Stanley Rooke is a very tall version of one of Snow White's dwarfs-a lean, gangling, overgrown pixie. But, beyond that, he is one of the most knowledgeable men in the world on the subject of side-lever Tyne paddle tugs. He has an uncanny capacity for diagnosing almost instantly the nature and causes of tugboat ai lments, along with a magnificent facility for curing these same ai lments with astonishing speed. He spent most of his time in a white boiler suit sp lattered with grease, poking around the tug to see that every weld was properly run, every board and fitting properly fastened. The air was constantly filled with his invective: " Get off your bloody ass, you bloody milksop, or I am going to kick you into the bloody Tyne."
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After all this tremendous effort, what did the Eppleton Hall look like? Visualize an X-ray side view of a 100-foot vesse l, the center two-thirds of which are crammed with ancient boilers in the stern area and even more ancient engines forward. The tiny compartment in the bow had been transformed into two staterooms for the ladies on board and a galley containing an awkward, long dining table and a few feet ahead of that, two cramped rows of cupboards from deck to overhead for the tug ' s commissairy. The stem section, behind the boilens , contains two smal l staterooms, one: for the Captain and one for the Chief Engiineer. Then aft on either side, were pairs cof snug double-tiered bunks for SEA HISTIORY 76, WINTER 1995-96