Moored on the banks of the Quinnipiac River, east of Yale University, stood a structure decisively out of place. Abandoned since 1987 and aground in the Fair Haven seaport since the 1920s, she stood as a pariah, her siding mascara streaked, her roof leaky, and her walls in-leaning, bow-legged, a telltale that maritime historian John Kochiss noticed and decoded. She is the last of her kind—a New York City Oyster Barge.
What the hot dog stand is to the New Yorker of today, the oyster stand was to the New Yorker of a century ago, when street vendors spooned chowder, a local favorite, to patrons and more colorful oyster cellars lured customers below ground at the site of a lone red “oyster balloon,” a muslin globe that often stayed lit well into the night.
In 1880 alone, over 700,000,000 oysters were processed in the United States. In 1891, oysters were the most valuable fishery by more than a factor of five over salmon, a far second. And in 1929, enough oysters were harvested off of the east coast to provide each U.S. citizen with roughly 1¼ lbs each. And it rested on a select fleet of all but forgotten boats to ensure that New York’s oysters made it from seafloor to stomach.
ABOUT THE BARGES
Oyster barges or scows—also called arks, due to their toy-like, biblical appearance—facilitated the dissemination of oysters to a population that depended on them economically and nutritionally, for sustenance and for enjoyment. They were the physical link between the complex ballet of the maritime and terrestrial worlds, functioning not only as efficient depots for wholesale buyers, shuckers, packagers, preservers, and hungry passersby, but also as financial hubs for the barge owners and the growing farmed-oyster industry.
For nearly a hundred years, starting in the 1820s, roughly 30-50 of these barges etched Manhattan’s coastal skyline, carving a scene of bustle from the pristine blue. At any one time, up to a dozen skiffs might cue with their sterns facing the barge as hired carriers, paid ¢10 per thousand oysters carried, walked wooden-planks connecting the skiffs and unloaded stock from oak buckets into oak hulls.
As non-seafaring vessels, the barges could afford certain flamboyance. Painted bright greens, reds, and yellows with white trimming, the scows lured city dwellers from the denizens of the streets to the burgeoning and colorful shore line. Even the elite, from time to time, ventured to the waterfront to steal a peek at their arched doorways and windows and tall flagstaffs that rose high above their roofs.
One observer commented: “They are curious craft...perhaps more like two-family apartment houses in Flatbush that have run away to sea.” Another remarked that the employees “worked at tremendous speed. A blow of a hammer cracks the lip of the shell, a twist of the knife flips it open, a flirt of the wrist dumps the oyster, uncaged at last…” One, seemingly lacking words, wrote, “a peep at the interior of any one of the oyster barges in the market [is] a revelation.”
ARCHITECTURE OF BARGES
To say that oyster barges were the life centers of the oyster industry is an understatement, and while the oyster barges did not do any of the harvesting themselves, with the so many roles and orders to fill, these three story micro-factories came to occupy a unique niche of New York’s architectural and naval legacy.
Many of the barge’s design features served mechanical advantages. When John Kochiss saw the scow’s slanted sides, that “tumbled home,” as sailors might say, he knew they served particular purposes. On Oyster Row, the trapezoidal shape of the individual barges prevented the barges from colliding into each other as they rolled in the harbor wind and current; they also helped stabilized the scows as weight constantly fluctuated with each offloaded barrel and each onboard haul of oysters.
Traditional anchors were similarly foregone to provide added stability and iron rings attached to the boats’ exteriors were fitted around wooden pilings to allow for the tidal rise and drop. To allow the scows to drop beneath street level when the sea level lowered, hinged ramps were the land-to-barge walkway of choice. Only at high tide could a pedestrian see straight into the bowels of the whole affair, at the men on their stools squatting, and at the come and go of fishermen and sailors through the opening in back.
The addition of a second floor, uncommon in most other barges, provided financial, spatial, and tactical advantages. Accessible by staircase and occasionally an exterior ladder, as seen in at least one 1880 print, the ornate and decorative second floor functioned as an office where business could be conducted and observed. Barrels and extra supplies were also stored upstairs, but the space primarily allowed the barge owner to keep a close eye on his product. This can also be seen in the layout of clear first floor galley, where a continuous line of site provided the owners—sometimes hired watchmen—the ability to oversee the production, start to finish. The oyster trade was lucrative, and “oyster rats” or “dock rats” were known to steal product and profit. Windows on both floors allowed for a more transparent workplace, and a balcony on the second floor provided additional vantages—and a place for the owner to relax. Additionally, by using the aesthetic language of urban architecture that echoed the high-rise vernacular of city residences, barge owners hoped to assert a place of permanence within a city in flux.
Storage hulls were not uncommon but were necessary to the oyster barges. They protected the oysters during warmer months, keeping them shaded and cool, and shielded the oysters from frigid currents, otherwise. They also allowed the barges to accumulate oysters and stay precisely on pace with demand. This freed up the skiffs, no longer bound by their own size limitations, to continue the raking or poling process, as was sometimes done.
OYSTER ORIGINS
Most of the stock that passed through Oyster Row came from New York, Connecticut, New Jersey, Maryland, and Virginia and was farmed. Mr. Hunter’s Grave, a 1956 article for the New Yorker written by Joseph Mitchell, reveals fascinating details about the early years of New York’s commercial oyster industry and the role Staten Island played in shaping aquaculture.
Many of the oystermen who worked the public beds of Staten Island in the early 19th century were free African Americans. They lived and worked together, specifically in Sandy Ground, raking oysters and weaving oak buckets from split saplings, baskets that continued to be the container of choice into the 20th century. They also learned blacksmithing in order to create and repair iron oyster rakes.
Staten Island’s natural-growth oysters, however, were raked to death by the 1820s due to overharvesting. Oystermen turned to buying baby oysters or “spat” from other locations and planting them on old shells and preferable substrates called “cultch.”
Tended to, farmed oysters grew quicker, but the decrease of abundant natural-growth oysters and the shift to farming seedstock led to the privatization of oyster beds in the mid 1800s, and, ultimately, fights over private property. This marked a decisive shift in the industry from harvesting oysters as sustenance to harvesting oysters as business. In one instance in 1848, a man named Nathaniel W. Cozzens from Rhode Island, previously convicted of stealing from private beds, now appeared on state records as an “oysterman” and joined others in petitioning the state to provide watchmen and protect the private beds he was once accused of pilfering.
The oyster barges emerged out of this atmosphere and were integral to the centralization of the farmed oyster industry. According to Mr. George H. Hunter, a native of Sandy Ground, and the primary source of Mitchell’s article, “The oyster wholesalers in New York were the unseen powers in the Staten Island oyster business; they advanced the money to build boats and buy Southern seed stock.”
BARGE DECLINE
Unfortunately, countless factors contributed to the demise of oyster populations and the eventual displacement of the iconic oyster barge. As industrialization took its grip on New York City and other coastal cities, water pollution spiked and typhoid outbreaks ravaged the city. Raw sewage that had been dumped into New York’s harbors for over 300 years were the leading culprit.
While sanitation issues worried consumers and killed off stock—the Pure Food and Drug Act of 1906 enacted strict regulation—a volatile cocktail of technological and commercial changed upended the industry. Complaints that started mounting in the 1850s about the barges’ interference with commercial shipping, forced the barges to constantly shift locations. Suppliers, most notably Virginia, concerned about environmental and economic strain in local communities outlawed the exportation of oyster seeds in the late 19th century,. And, as a New York Times article from April 4. 1906 suggests, “Oysters by telephone and telegraph did it…[they] wiped out the middle man or jobber.” Buyers no longer frequented the barges, instead capable of calling oyster farmers directly.
And, if this instability wasn’t enough, Prohibition sank the industry. As one observer noted, oysters were so ubiquitous and democratizing that the only difference between the rich and the poor is that the poor eat oysters with beer and the rich with Champagne. With neither beverage legal anymore, the once famous oyster cellars dried up and their suppliers slowly went out of business (at least according to the barge owners).
The scows were eventually slung around Battery Point and onto the East River, and in 1925, only five of the scows remained. But, resilient and determined as always, it took until the 1940s for the last oyster barge to wash away from New York City’s memory somewhere beneath the Manhattan Bridge.
FAIR HAVEN BARGE HISTORY
The Fair Haven barge is the last remaining barge. Over the years, it has operated as a speakeasy, a Yale University dive bar, a popular local restaurant, and, as rumor has it, even a brothel. According to Kochiss, based on an interview with Ernest E. Ball, Ball purchased the barge from either I.P. Mersereau company or the Alexander Frazer Company—both companies ceased business around the same time—and shipped it north to Fair Haven. Ball was a well known oysterman in Connecticut.
Further research indicates that the Fair Haven barge most likely belonged to the I.P. Mersereau company and was built in Tottenville, Staten Island in 1881 (Kochiss suspected it was the Mersereau boat due to the Frazer Co.’s reputation for having one of the largest scows in the fleet; the Fair Haven barge was average sized).
In 1904, the Superintendent of Docks issued new permits, following shifting ownership amongst the barges and a desire to change points of anchor. From Bloomfield Street to Gansevoort Pier, barges 1-14 occupied the “Upper Oyster Basin.” South of Gansevoort Pier, barges 15-17 occupied the “Lower Oyster Basin.” Of these scows in the lower basin, spot number 15 was designated to I.P. Mersereau. At a rate of ¢10/day/foot, the price for all scows, the barge is listed as requiring “16 feet” of frontage; the Fair Haven Barge measures just over 16 feet wide.
Tidbits of the I.P. Mersereau barge’s maritime past, preserved in city records, also coincide with oral history. In 1915, the I.P. Mersereau barge’s official number is listed as 100277 at 64.4’ long, 15.5’ wide, and 5.2’ deep—all measurements correspond with the Fair Haven barge with a degree of error. And, while traditionally oyster scows were not named beyond the company that operated them, the I.P. Mersereau barge again took a different trajectory. After being converted as a freighter ship with a 200HP independent motor in 1916, she was christened Margaret.
CONCLUSION
Michael J. Chiarappa, in his decisive essay titled New York CIty’s Oyster Barges, discusses the Fair Haven Barge and notes that, “to restore it and bring it back to the Manhattan waterfront [is] an opportunity for interpretive rapprochement in a city that so often appears historically and environmentally disconnected from the maritime world that shaped it.” (102) And, with the resurgence of the oyster industry and continuing efforts to revitalize New York City’s coastline, the time couldn’t be more right.
John Kochiss feels similarly and, in a 2006 interview, remarks on the rarity of his find and the specialness of the Fair Haven Barge. In response to a question on why the barge should be preserved, he recounted what his boss once said to him about unique maritime vessels: “Would you rather have a copy of the Mona Lisa or the original? That applies to this Fair Haven, New York Oyster Barge.” And while his interest in the Fair Haven Barge is more storied and intimate than any other historians and activists, and despite the barge’s reliance on the very oysters Connecticut locals grew and harvested,. Kochiss concluded: “It should be displayed in New York City because that’s where it belongs.”
