Building a Modern Maritime Tradition by Jerry Roberts
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ext Labor Day weekend, .the Coast Guard will once again create a safety zone along a mile-and-a-half stretch of the Hudson River between New York 's 46th and 79th Streets, as a dozen or more tugs compete in the Fifth Annual Intrepid Tugboat Challenge. Until the Intrepid reinstituted tug racing on the Hudson in September 1993, there had been no major tugboat competition in New York since the International Maritime Race of 1953 when twenty-five tugs fought for bragging rights of the harbor. Then, politicians, industry leaders and VIPs watched the event from dozens of observation vessels as thousands of spectators lined the shores. A lot of wake was thrown, great clouds of smoke were belched and a splendid time was had by all. But that was four decades ago, before the Port of New York's fall from grace. On-lookers await the racing tugs at the rail of the Intrepid' s barge at the end of Pier 86. Photo by Frank Desisto.
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The tugs charge downriver toward the finish line. Photo by Frank Desisto.
By the time I came to the city in 1978 most of the grand ocean liners and all the cargo ships had moved to greener pastures, or gone out of business. It seemed as if the Circle Line, a few garbage scows, some gravel barges, a handful of seasonal cruise ships and a silent waterfront lined with abandoned piers were all that were left to represent what had once been the greatest port in the world. By the early 1980s, however, the City had begun to tum its eye back to the river. Here and abroad, neglected metropolitan waterfronts were being seen as potentially valuable civic real estate, grounds for physical and spiritual rebirth. The Intrepid arrived in 1982, an urban pioneer in the West Side's dockland wilderness. I joined the Intrepid two years later and watched on a daily basis as the waterfront began to come back to life. Commuter ferries , once considered a thing of the past, now crisscross the river day and night. Dinner boats, cruise ships, canoes, kayaks and sailboats have joined the tugs that still keep the region 's commerce on the move. Witnessing this maritime renaissance, we began to ask ourselves what the Intrepid could do to encourage people to come back to the waterfront and rebuild some traditions. Several other major cities had already instituted tug races, so in 1993 we decided to host the First Annual Intrepid Tugboat Challenge. We settled on four basic events including a parade of tugs, a race, a nose-to-nose pushing contest and a linehea vi ng competition to feature the deckhand' s skills. To round out the event we would throw in a post race barbecue for the crews, awards for best looking
and best vintage tugs, best crew tattoo, best mascot and best dressed crew. The race would be started at the 79th Street Boat Basin by the New York City Parks Department, with the finish line drawn between the Intrepid's Nantucket lightship moored to the end of our Pier 86 and the privately owned Frying Pan lightship anchored out in the river. The Coast Guard would help keep the course safe, with the Captain of the Port acting as chief judge. As part of the Intrepid' s SeaFest community service/public access program, spectators would be admitted free of charge to observe the race from the end of our pier. It all looked great on paper. The problem was: How do you get tugboat operators to commit working boats and crews to a non-money-making afternoon of fun and frolic in an age of penny-pinching ethos. A week before that first race, despite encouraging meetings with industry representatives, we had only two tugs tentatively committed. We had already spent a couple thousand dollars on trophies and food for the crew barbecue, and we had promised the press a major event. Fearing for my reputation, if not my job, I got on the phone and fax machine and begged, bugged and pleaded for tugs. Any tugs. From anywhere. We were about to retract our press releases when Bob Moore at McAllister Brothers saved the event by committing four tugs and Fred Kosnac offered the Gotham and the Margot. It was starting to look like a race. However, my anticipation was tempered by the warning that any or all of these vessels could be called away for a paying job at any time. On the morning of the event I stood SEA HISTORY 80, WINTER 1996-97