Old Jeb shifted his chew inside his wizened cheeks, spat
reflectively in the general direction of Lake Winnipesaukee,
and observed, “That boat ain’t much like the
ones I see when I was a boy.” He shook his head
regretfully at the sleek lines of the diesel steamship
Mount Washington II and the scores of summer vacationers
that were crowding her decks. Jeb allowed as how all the
romance had gone out of Winnipesaukee steamboating since
old Captain Leander Lavallee, of the Mt. Washington, died.
“These boats, they jest go around and around,”
he said sadly, “no races, no nuthing.”
When Jeb or any of the other Lakes Region old-timers start
to spin their yarns about the steamboat rivalries of a
century ago, the listener can understand how they might
feel that a lot of the excitement has gone out of boating
on New Hampshire’s biggest lake. In those days it
was closer to being shipping —a serious business,
part of the commercial transportation system of the region
—rather than the scenic recreation it is today.
Its history reads like a chapter out of the clipper-ship
days, when storms and shipwrecks, races and rivalries
were all in the day’s work. Even the names of those
old steamers had a romantic cast: the Maid of the Isles,
the Lady of the Lake, the James Bell, the Governor Endicott,
the Minneola, the Belknap, the Chocorua, and the grand
old Mount Washington. And each boat has its own legends
of romance and misadventure.
Steamboating on nineteenth-century Winnipesaukee was big
business. Compared with the dusty dirt roads that linked
the towns of the Lakes Region, water travel was fast and
luxurious, and steamboats were the accepted form of transportation
there for decades. Railroad stations even today are a
common sight on the public docks of Winnipesaukee towns,
where train passengers were transferred to one of the
railroad-owned steamboats for the next leg of their journey.
The lakeside towns were laced together by boat lines,
with railroad boats joining the larger towns, and smaller
craft acting as connecting carriers between the islands
and smaller villages. On any day in the mid-1800’s,
a dozen or more steamboats belched soot into the air as
they carried freight and passengers around and across
Lake Winnipesaukee.
Commercial shipping first began on the lake over two centuries
ago, when canoes and sailboats were used to carry freight
between the lakeside settlements. But Winnipesaukee is
a difficult lake to navigate in sailing craft, and the
lives of those early mariners were made dangerous by uncharted
reefs and bewildering currents. It soon became obvious
that a more reliable form of transportation was needed
if boating was to become commercially successful. The
first answer to the problem was a bulky, seventy-foot
flatboat built by a trader named Pattern. This was the
fabled “hossboat,” New Hampshire’s first
contribution to the powerboating industry. Two horses
walked their endless way around the lake on a treadmill
connected to two large paddle wheels, and the craft was
maneuvered by a steersman with a large sweep oar and foot-brakes
for the paddle wheels. The horse-boats soon replaced sailing
craft for transportation and remained in use until late
in the nineteenth century, when they were used to haul
wood for the boilers of the steamboats.
Shipwrecks were the distinguishing feature in the life
of Winnipesaukee’s first steam Hampshire’s
first contribution to the powerboating industry. Two horses
walked their endless way around the lake on a treadmill
connected to two large paddle wheels, and the craft was
maneuvered by a steersman with a large sweep oar and foot-brakes
for the paddle wheels. The horse-boats soon replaced sailing
craft for transportation and remained in use until late
in the nineteenth century, when they were used to haul
wood for the boilers of the steamboats.
Shipwrecks were the distinguishing feature in the life
of Winnipesaukee’s first steamboat, the Belknap.
Two years in the building, the Belknap was a prodigious
effort for the Lakes Region shipbuilders —ninety-six
feet long and thirty-three feet wide on the decks —and
was powered by a steam engine salvaged from an old saw
mill Her first misadventure happened the day she was launched
at Lakeport in 1833. Full-ahead was located where reverse
should have been in her crazy-quilt pilot house, and the
proud ship plowed backwards into a raft of logs instead
of sailing majestically out into Paugus Bay. The trouble
was soon located, however; the Belknap finished her maiden
voyage on schedule and continued to operate on the lake
for eight more years, until another raft of logs again
caused an accident that finished her career for good.
On that cold October day in 1841, the lake witnessed its
first serious shipwreck, and another one of its 365 islands
received a name.
It was late in the season, when the nor’easters
make boating hazardous on Winnipesaukee just as they do
for seamen everywhere. The Belknap was sailing out of
Center Harbor that day, towing a raft of logs that slowed
the ship down to a speed of about three miles an hour.
Somewhere between Six Mile Island and Birch Island a gale
struck the steamer. Unable to make any headway with her
heavy burden, the Belknap swung onto the point of a small
island, smashed against submerged rocks and sank almost
immediately. Although the machinery was later salvaged,
the hull still remains on the lake-bottom near “Steamboat
Island,” as it has been called ever since.
During the eight years of the Belknap’s service,
other steamers were put into service on the lake, all
of them powered by old locomotive or sawmill engines.
About eight were built altogether, fashioned along the
scow lines of the Belknap; they were noisy and clumsy,
but they proved that scheduled steamboat transportation
was a practical and profitable business. Population was
growing, the railroads were coming and businessmen recognized
the need for inter-town transportation. But by the time
that the Belknap made her last voyage, all the early sidewheelers
had been either worn out or destroyed, and steamboating
on Winnipesaukee came to a standstill for several years
while the region waited for a newer type of common carrier.
The new era started at mid-century with the construction
of the famous Lady of the Lake, which was to bring with
her the railroad interests that were one of the greatest
factors in the development of marine transportation on
Winnipesaukee. The Lady, constructed in 1849 at Lakeport
by the Winnipesaukee Steamboat Company, was a 125-foot
craft with a spanking new steam engine —the first
boat to be designed completely for commercial lake travel.
Thousands gathered from all over New Hampshire to witness
the launching of the new vessel, and four hundred rode
with her on her maiden voyage from Lakeport to the Weirs,
Center Harbor, and Wolfeboro. Hardly had the Lady docked
again at The Weirs before the Concord and Montreal railroad
company began negotiations to buy the boat, and Winnipesaukee
steamboating entered its most romantic years.
The Lady had no rival on the lake, and business boomed
for the Concord and Montreal system. This was a bitter
pill for the company’s competitor, the Cocheco railroad
company that served the southern part of Winnipesaukee.
That system, seeing its business disappear under the drawing
power of the C&M’s sidewheeler, ordered a new
ship to be constructed at Alton Bay, and the competition
was under way.
The rivalry that resulted from the launching of the Chocorua
by the Cocheco railroad company was a long and bitter
one. The Chocorua was immediately forbidden docking facilities
at the Weirs, home territory of the Concord and Montreal
system; in counter-measure, the Cocheco added Meredith
to the ports-of-call for their ship. The fight was on,
and the lake was divided into two domains, each actually
going under a different name. One end of the lake was
called “Winnipesaukee”—the name that
was legally adopted by the state legislature in 1931—while
the other half went under the more tongue-twisting title
of “Winnipeseogee.” The captains of the rival
steamers were loyal company men, and they usually gave
the “full ahead” signal when the two boats
met on their parallel runs from Center Harbor to Wolfeboro.
The smoke-stacks belched and the boilers hissed, while
passengers and crew cheered on their favorites —but
the Lady was unquestionably the better craft and could
usually steam rings around the Chocorua.
The railroad rivalry had been under way for only a few
years before a new and more luxurious steamer was put
into operation on the lake. Privately-owned and so attractive
that she took quite a chunk of business away from the
company boats, the Jim Bell was outfitted even to the
extent of window blinds for comfort and wooden roller
bearings for silent operation. Not caring for this type
of competition, the Boston and Maine company —which
by this time had absorbed the Cocheco system —purchased
the Jim Bell and retired her from active use as a passenger-carrier.
The fast-growing company received two benefits from this
move: the Jim Bell was stationed at The Weirs, where it
could encroach on the home territory of the Concord and
Montreal, and the ship also turned in a neat profit from
excursion trips and moonlight cruises. So, although the
Jim Bell never had a fair chance in the commercial competition,
she did have the distinction of becoming the Lakes Region’s
first tourist boat, and pioneer in an industry that would
completely displace commercial lake boating before too
many years had passed.
The purchase of the Jim Bell gave a boost to the Boston
and Maine, but Captain Wiggin of their Chocorua was still
smarting under the repeated defeats his boat was taking
at the hands of the faster Lady. He stormed at his company
to provide him with a better vessel, and the company realized
the value of his demands when it took stock of the drop
in business it was suffering because of the Lady. Finally,
in 1871, the up-and-coming Boston and Maine company gave
the go-ahead signal for the construction of another ship,
and leading boatbuilders all along the Atlantic coast
were consulted. They were determined that the new vessel
would be the latest word in speed and luxury.
The ship was built and launched at Alton Bay, where she
was christened the Mount Washington, a name that was to
become one of the grandest traditions of Lake Winnipesaukee.
The Mount was a remarkable ship when she was launched
in 1872, longer and faster than any boat ever seen on
the lake up to that time, and one of the fastest sidewheelers
ever built in the United States. A single gigantic piston,
with a diameter of forty-two inches and a stroke of ten
feet, drove the Mount at better than twenty miles an hour.
One of the largest ever used on a mobile engine, the piston
drove the sidewheels by means of a picturesque “walking
beam” atop the superstructure. When the Mount was
hull-down behind one of the lake’s hundreds of islands,
all the on-looker could see was the tall smoke-stack belching
soot into the sky, and the walking-beam tilting up and
down, down and up, as it lifted shafts to turn the giant
paddle wheels. The engine developed over 450 horsepower
at top speed —enough speed to leave the redoubtable
old Lady in its wake.
Even though the Mount far outclassed the Lady of the Lake,
their rivalry continued unabated for eighteen more years.
The captain and the crew of the Lady pushed themselves
ever harder in their efforts to regain some of their lost
business, until by 1890 the vessel ran three round trips
a day from June 4 until October 20. She began her day’s
work at 5:30 a.m., sailing from Wolfeboro to Long Island,
Center Harbor, Bear Island, and The Weirs. Arriving back
at Wolfeboro at 10:20 a.m., she sailed immediately on
her second trip, which finished at 3 p.m. The third and
last trip of the day started at 3:30 and finished at 7:30
p.m. —a fourteen-hour day for captain and crew,
not counting the time involved in firing up in the morning
and cleaning up at night. Yet despite their gallant efforts,
the Lady was a losing proposition when stacked up against
the Mount Washington. She made her last trip in September
of 1893, after which she was destroyed by her owners,
and the Mount Washington was left alone as undisputed
queen of lake travel.
While the Lady and the Mount were still fighting their
unequal battle for lake supremacy, a new type of steamer
was introduced to Winnipesaukee. Driven by means of a
screw propeller, it was more efficient than the bigger
boats, although it could not compete with the sidewheelers
when it came to speed. These new steamers were intended
primarily as connecting carriers and excursion vessels,
for the tourist business was becoming ever more important
to the Lakes Region of New Hampshire.
The first screw-driven steamer constructed especially
for Winnipesaukee was the Minneola, launched five years
after the construction of the Mount Washington. A tremendous
crowd flocked to Lakeport to see the new ship launched,
for her New York builders had announced that the Minneola
could reach a speed of ten miles an hour, a fantastic
claim for the still-unproven screw propeller. But the
Minneola lived up to her billing, and reached a speed
of ten and one half miles per hour on her maiden voyage,
making her the fastest ship on the lake apart from the
two railroad sidewheelers.
Most famous of these propeller-driven boats was the Maid
of the Isles, an expensive craft that cost her Wolfeboro
builders $16,000 in 1877. The Maid was a fast little boat,
and there is reason to believe that she once beat the
Mount Washington in one of the many races between the
early lake steamers. The contest took place between Three-Mile
Island and Center Harbor, with the smaller ship passing
the Mount near Becky’s Garden and docking at Center
Harbor a scant minute before the sidewheeler. Partisans
of the Mount Washington, however, claim that the Maid
“ambushed” the bigger boat, lying in wait
for her with a full head of steam, and that the Mount
had no time to get up speed before being passed by the
Maid. Most of the old-timers will claim that no boat could
beat the Mount when she didn’t want to be beaten.
The Maid also had the distinction of being sent to the
bottom of the lake twice before her career ended. The
first sinking occurred shortly after her construction,
when loose boards allowed water to fill her hull, sinking
her off the Wolfeboro Navy Yard. After a long delay, the
$16,000 craft was finally raised and sold at public auction
for the sum of fifty dollars. The investment was a profitable
one for her buyer, since the Maid continued to serve as
a connecting carrier for ten more years, until she sank
once more while tied up at Lakeport. Again the sturdy
boat was raised and was towed to Center Harbor the next
summer, where a group of Independence Day jokesters set
her afire and ended her career for good.
When the Maid of the Isles was destroyed around the turn
of the century, the boating era had also reached a turning
point. The Concord and Montreal system passed out of the
scene in 1893 after the Lady of the Lake made its last
voyage and the Boston and Maine railroad soon met a more
serious type of competition as the age of the automobile
began to unfold. Roads were improved, the Model T Ford
rolled off the assembly lines, and the commercial value
of the steamships began to lessen. By the time the Armistice
was signed, ending World War I, steamboating as an adjunct
of commercial transportation was on its way out.
In the early 1920’s, the Boston and Maine officials
decided to move out of the steamship business. The Mount
Washington was sold to her captain, Leander Lavallee;
the railroad’s other steamers had long since been
destroyed by fire or shipwreck or old age. Used for the
more leisurely business of carrying summer vacationers
as an excursion boat, the Mount continued in operation
until December 23, 1939, in one of the grandest traditions
of the “vacation paradise” of the Lakes Region.
Millions of tourists from all over the world rode on the
old sidewheeler, and thousands of cameras snapped pictures
of the giant wheels and the unique “walking beam”.
The 67-year-old vessel had become a traveling legend before
that cold winter day when an unexplained fire swept through
the docks of The Weirs and sent Winnipesaukee’s
last steamship to the bottom.
The Mount Washington has gone, and with her a century
of New Hampshire’s most colorful history. Old Captain
Lavallee is dead, the lakeside railroad stations are being
torn down, and pleasure boats now have the big lake to
themselves. Winnipesaukee’s steamboat days have
given way to a new age, but the old romance and legend
still exist in precious faded clippings and photographs
and in the nostalgic memories of old-timers like Jeb.
