Museum Ships of Baltimore

It was a hot and sticky July day when I stepped off the Amtrak train in Baltimore’s Penn Station. I’d boarded an earlier train that day from Harrisburg to Philadelphia, driving to Harrisburg from Ithaca. The total transit time when driving vs. taking the train was about even, and the ability to get work done while traveling made the train a clear winner. I was in Baltimore for a series of Yankees vs. Orioles night baseball games, which gave me some time to explore the city during the day.

I was staying at the Hilton Baltimore Inner Harbor in a room overlooking the Seven Foot Knoll Lighthouse, which gave me the idea to spend a day exploring the holdings of the Historic Ships in Baltimore organization. My family took many trips on Amtrak from Metropark to Baltimore for Yankees vs. Orioles baseball games when I was a kid, but we only visited the ballpark and aquarium on our trips. I ended up visiting all the sites included with the $21.95 ticket: The Seven Foot Knoll Lighthouse, USS Taney, USS Torsk, US Lightship Chesapeake, and the USS Constellation. While I did visit the USS Constellation, I don’t really have any worthwhile pictures to share here besides the one above. Sailing ships aren’t really my thing, though I will say it’s evidently the most well-maintained ship in the fleet and quite unique as a museum ship.

USS TANEY

The largest ship in the museum’s collection, the USS Taney (WHEC-37), is a WWII-era Coast Guard cutter which served from 1936 until 1986. She witnessed the onset of US involvement in WWII while tied up at Pier 6 during the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7th, 1941. Among her duties in WWII was performing convoy escorts, shelling enemy positions on shore, and defending ships from kamikaze attacks. She is the last ship present at Pearl Harbor that’s still afloat today.

The single 5”/38 caliber gun mounted on Taney’s bow was her main offensive armament for most of her career; however, she did carry additional mounts during WWII. While the Navy was busy cramming anti-aircraft armament into every nook and cranny of its ships, the Taney was mounting additional 5”/38s. There are photos below-deck of Taney which provide a good representation of the many different configurations she sported during her career.

Taney served a very different role post-war, combating smuggling and conducting rescue missions on the open ocean. Her primary role was serving as an ocean station weather ship, reporting meteorological information that aided the preparation of weather forecasts.

Stepping aboard Taney rockets you straight back to WWII with that “old ship smell.” If you’re a fan of museum ships like I am, then you know what I’m talking about—that combination of old machine oil, paint, and general mustiness found aboard old ships. The tour route snakes along the top deck of the ship and down into the hull, giving you a peek at the engineering spaces, mess deck, and finally the 5”/38 mounted on the forward deck.

Having wood decking topside really does make a difference when it comes to the temperature below deck. Taney’s deck is stripped down to the steel underneath, and the spaces below are swelteringly hot. The Battleship New Jersey recently had her teak wood deck replaced at a cost of around $4 million, so I understand why the foundation chose to leave Taney’s deck bare. Caring for four vessels can’t be cheap, but without HVAC, the second deck basically becomes an oven. You could feel the heat radiating off the deck above the officer’s staterooms.

USS Torsk

Next up was the USS Torsk, a Tench-class submarine docked right next to the Baltimore Aquarium. Torsk has the distinction of being the last US Navy ship to sink an enemy vessel during WWII. Her design was an incremental improvement over the Gato and Balao-class boats built earlier in WWII, and consequently, she only undertook two war patrols before the Japanese surrendered on August 15, 1945. After the war, she served as a training ship and anti-submarine training target until her decommissioning in 1971.

The Tench-class boats like Torsk were in an awkward position after WWII, having been made obsolete by advances in German U-Boat technology. A variety of programs were undertaken to extend the service life of these submarines, and the Torsk was converted under the “Fleet Snorkel” program. The sail was streamlined, and a snorkel system was added, allowing the operation of her diesel engines while submerged. The limited submerged range of her Sargo batteries could now be supplemented with diesel power if she could stay within snorkel depth when underway.

A little-known fact about the Torsk, like the USS Cod in Cleveland, OH, is that the only sailors lost during the boat’s history were a result of accidental overboard incidents. Joseph Grant Snow was lost overboard during a training dive on January 4, 1945, in the Atlantic Ocean. Snow was acting as a lookout on the bridge but did not make it down to the conning tower before the hatch was closed. His position on the dive planes at battle stations was covered by another crew member, and his absence was not noticed until the evening. His body was never recovered, considered lost at sea. An investigation into the accident led to the conclusion that new boats should not try to dive within the standard diving time until the crew has been thoroughly drilled.

Lightship CHESAPEAKE

Forward of USS Torsk is the United States Lightship Chesapeake. Built in 1930, she served multiple stations throughout her career until decommissioning in 1970. The primary function of a lightship was similar to a manned lighthouse - to provide a navigational aid to shipping. Lightships of the Chesapeake’s class feature two 5000 lb. mushroom anchors to hold the boat on station in all types of weather. Other features included a 13,000 candlepower beacon lamp, foghorn, radio beacon, and the name of its station stenciled prominently in white against the red hull for navigational purposes. Accommodations for the crew were spacious, with enlisted men sleeping two to a stateroom while officers had their own staterooms.

During WWII, the ship was painted haze gray, armed with 20mm cannons, and tasked with inspecting shipping headed for the Cape Cod Canal. This is the only ship in the Historic Ships in Baltimore collection which has any form of air conditioning, meaning I took a bit longer to explore this ship than I otherwise would have…

Seven Foot Knoll Lighthouse

Seven Foot Knoll Lighthouse is what I believe to be the most unique object of the Historic Ships in Baltimore collection. It is the oldest surviving screw-pile lighthouse in the world, built as a navigational aid to the Chesapeake Bay. The innovative feature behind the lighthouse was its screw-pile design, which allowed the piles to be screwed into the soft ocean bed and eliminated the complexity and expense of a masonry foundation. The lighthouse was installed in 1856. Keepers of the lighthouse would live in the structure with their families until 1919 when the keepers switched to working in pairs. Some lighthouse keepers even raised goats on the galley deck below the main living quarters! Lighthouse keepers were tasked with maintaining the 4th order Fresnel lens, which could be seen for 12 miles. The lighthouse was automated in 1949 and had fallen into disrepair by the time the Coast Guard donated it to the City of Baltimore in 1989.

Syracuse OnTrack

As a former daily rider of NJ Transit’s Raritan Valley Line, I’ve always found it disappointing that public transit in Upstate New York is largely relegated to buses. Some cities, like Rochester and Binghamton, had tram lines that died out in the 1950s. Even Ithaca had regular passenger service via the Lehigh Valley Railroad until 1961. Today, the only regular passenger rail service that runs anywhere Ithaca is Amtrak’s Maple Leaf, Empire Service, and Lake Shore Limited trains. While I appreciate the frequency of trains stopping Syracuse compared to most localities, riding Amtrak takes nearly twice as long and cost about the same as Cornell’s Campus-to-Campus bus when traveling to NYC.

Given the bus-centric nature of public transit in Upstate New York, I was surprised to learn that Syracuse had a commuter rail service as recently as 2008. OnTrack, as the service was named, used Budd Rail Diesel Cars (RDCs) and operated over New York, Susquehanna, and Western (NYSW) railway trackage between northern and southern Syracuse. The RDCs were key to the early success of the operation, keeping running costs low compared to a standard locomotive and coach setup. The NYSW purchased five 1950s Budd RDCs to operate the OnTrack service. Service was suspended in 2007 and discontinued in 2008 due to low ridership and continued operating losses caused by infrequent service and a short overall route. Over the past winter, I set out with my drone and D850 to track down and document what remains of the OnTrack infrastructure today.

Stop #1 | Alliance Bank Stadium Station

The Alliance Bank Stadium station was built but never served any passenger trains. It was demolished in 2022. As usual, I arrived just a few years too late and was unable to snag a picture. This aerial view shows the leftward curve of the rail bed and road toward the William F. Walsh Transportation Center. The pedestrian path linking the parking lot to the road originally led to the platform.

Stop #2 | William F. Walsh Regional Transportation Center

Another instance where infrastructure for OnTrack was built but never put into service is the William F. Walsh Transportation Center, which connects Syracuse to Amtrak. The island platform was intended to serve OnTrack trains on one side and Amtrak on the other. Only the reinforced pedestrian tunnel which runs under the tracks offers any clues that OnTrack was intended to serve the station, as rails were never installed on the tiedowns.

Stop #3 | Carousel Center

The Carousel Center (now Destiny U.S.A.) station is still visible and accessible from the mall parking lot. Remarkably, a notice to riders that city express service will be limited to Saturdays only until further notice is still posted on the platform. This is the station I saw which lead me down the OnTrack rabbit hole. I saw it when traveling to the Apple Store in the to get my Mac serviced and just had to investigate.

Stop #4 | 600 Erie Place

600 Erie Place was a flag stop along the line, meaning a train would only stop if there were passengers to pick up or drop off. Today it’s just a regular grade crossing with no signs of OnTrack.

Stop #5 | Armory Square - Downtown Syracuse

Armory Square utilized the old Delaware, Lackawanna, and Western Railroad station in the heart of Syracuse. The tracks were elevated in 1940, but passenger service was discontinued by 1950.

Stop #6 | Syracuse University - Carrier Dome

The Syracuse University stop, as the name implies, was intended to serve Syracuse University and bring passengers to Carrier Dome events. I wonder what portion of OnTrack ridership came from students traveling to Destiny U.S.A. and Armory Square? Seems like the perfect use case for public transportation to me.

Stop #7 | Colvin Street

Colvin Street was another flag stop on the line. The metal “Colvin Street” sign is still posted at the top of the stairs that lead down from the tracks to street level. An asphalt platform, the station sign, and concrete stairs are all that remain of this stop. Seasonal service continued as far south as Jamesville Beach Park during the summers.

Pullman, Indiana

While the truly luxurious era of North American train travel is long gone, the legacy of George Mortimer Pullman’s “Palace Car” lives on at the Pullman National Historic Park. I found myself in Chicago a few months back with a dangerous combination of a free Saturday and a bag full of cameras. Pullman, like Roebling, NJ, was a company town that has been on my “to visit” list for years. I didn’t have a rental car, so I ended up taking Metra from Chicago’s Millennium Station to the Pullman site. This trip was full of firsts, including an overnight Amtrak train in coach from Syracuse to Chicago, a return trip back in a bid-up roomette, and the delightful experience of missing my Metra stop on the way out to Pullman. Metra is the only US commuter rail service I know of in the 21st century that still operates flag stops. Both myself and another passenger were caught off-guard by this and had to make the walk of shame back from the following station to Pullman after we missed our stop.

So who was George Pullman, why is a town named after him, and how did it become a National Historic Park? George Pullman was the founder of the Pullman Company, which built and operated luxurious railroad sleeping accommodations between 1867 and 1969. Pullman started building rail cars in 1863 and incorporated the Pullman Palace Car Company in 1867. A huge publicity boost in 1865 set the company up for success when the newly completed $20,000 Pullman Pioneer Car was attached to President Abraham Lincoln’s funeral train, attracting investors like Andrew Carnegie to the company. Pullman’s leasing model was unique - porters, conductors, and the cars themselves were leased by railroads, offsetting their high cost and giving the Pullman Company complete control over the quality of service provided onboard.

The high demand for Pullman cars soon outstripped manufacturing capacity, and as such, a 4,000-acre lot south of Chicago was chosen for a new factory and company town in 1880. Workers could live, work, shop, and relax all within the confines of the Pullman neighborhood. A large arcade contained a movie theater, library, bank, stores, and offices. A singular church, dubbed Greenstone Church for its characteristically greenish limestone walls, served as a place of worship for multiple denominations. A central market building sold produce and meat to workers.

The idealistic community George Pullman envisioned lasted all of 15 years before it was forcibly separated from the Pullman Company by Illinois Supreme Court order. A contributing factor to the demise of Pullman as a company-owned town was the Pullman boycott of 1894. The boycott stemmed from layoffs that left many workers unable to pay rent or buy food, and the company refused to slash prices commensurate with a 30-40% reduction in wages.

The strike spread nationwide as union members refused to run trains with Pullman carriages. The company devised a backhanded way to break the strike by convincing the railroads to run Pullman cars on their mail trains. Refusing to run the mail threatened interstate commerce, which allowed the federal government to step in and use armed troops to break the strike. A subsequent Illinois Supreme Court decision required Pullman to dispose of its non-industrial holdings as they fell outside the company’s charter, which was completed with the divestment of the company town in 1907.

The downfall of the Pullman Company began with the decline of passenger rail travel post-WWII. Air travel was rapidly taking passenger traffic from the railroads, and the allure of Pullman service quickly faded. The last railcars rolled out of the complex in 1982, although the Pullman-Standard Company had dissolved in 1969. Plans to preserve the old administration building and shops had been in the works since 1991 when the state of Illinois purchased the structures, but no real action was taken until after the whole complex went up in flames on December 6, 1998. A man who “heard voices” in his head set the blaze, which completely gutted the structure. The National Park Service has since renovated what’s left of the administration building into a visitors center that has exhibits on the history of Pullman and its significance as a National Historic Park.

I thought it was interesting that the layout of Pullman is the inverse of Roebling. Whereas the cheapest houses in Roebling were located right next to the steel mills, the nicest houses for company executives were right across the street from the factories in Pullman. The community of Pullman provided everything its residents could need, including a luxurious hotel for visitors, a massive arcade with a post office, movie theater, library, and a central market where workers could purchase groceries. Most of the housing and structural layout of the town has survived. The Arcade was demolished in 1926, and Market Hall burned in 1974.

The Hotel Florence is now managed by the National Park Service, Greenstone Church is home to a Methodist congregation, and the Bielenberg Historic Pullman House Foundation operates a coffee shop out of a former executive’s house. I’d highly recommend stopping by the coffee shop if you’re in town for a visit.