topographic map showing georges creek and levisa fork

Snags, Sawyers, and a river on a Boom

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Photo above: Modern day topographic map; arrow points to intersection of Georges Creek and the Levisa Fork of the Big Sandy, approximate location of the Favorite’s sinking.

“The steamboat splashing up and down the Sandy River ushered in a colorful, romantic period in the history of the Big Sandy Valley,” begins Carol Crowe-Carraco in The Big Sandy.

“From the third decade of the nineteenth century to the eve of World War I, the clear call of the steamboat whistle, the melodious notes of the calliope, the curses of deckhands, and the halloos of packet travelers joined the chorus of voices of the river.”

The busy public landing at Catlettsburg, KY, 1903. The packet boats are the 'Big Sandy' and 'Thealka.' The showboat is 'Swallow & Markle.'
The busy public landing at Catlettsburg, KY, 1903. The packet boats are the ‘Big Sandy’ and ‘Thealka.’ The showboat is ‘Swallow & Markle.’

But of course there were pitfalls as well.

Some of the dangers found along the Big Sandy can be found along the Ohio River into which it empties; some are specific to it. The Native American Siouan tribe Tutelos, early occupants of the Big Sandy watershed, called the river Tatteroa, which roughly translates as “river of sandbars.” A shallow draft was crucial for steamboats that plied the Big Sandy and its several forks. Then there’s the problem of snags. Rapids and rocks at least could be seen in advance, but a snag was the most significant threat to navigation because it was often undetectable.

Sawyers, Planters, and Preachers: Watching Out for River Snags

River pilots described three kinds of snags. There were “rafts,” or “wooden islands,” composed of an accumulation of logs and tree debris that became grounded on a sandbar or other outcropping from the shore. “Planters” were whole trees that had fallen into the river and become embedded on the bottom, over time becoming reinforced by the build up of silt.

Similar to planters were “sawyers,” groups of trees embedded in the river bottom at a less than perpendicular angle and subject to the pressure of the current, appearing and disappearing at intervals mimicking the motion of a saw at a saw mill. Often groups of planters would have only a foot or two showing above the water. Contrary to their flimsy appearance, planters could quickly ground a boat and tear into its hull.

Trees were constantly falling into the rivers as the banks eroded. And a river on a ‘boom’ compounded that danger. Stretches of mild weather after heavy winter snows or freezes caused not only high waters and flooding, but the loosened ice floes in those fast moving waters acted like sandpaper, scraping away shore trees, piers, and anything anchored to them.

"Uncle Sam's toothpullers." U. S. Snagboat No.2, a singlehull, double-bow design. This was one of five snagboats for which Congress made provision in 1852.
“Uncle Sam’s toothpullers.” U. S. Snagboat No.2, a singlehull, double-bow design. This was one of five snagboats for which Congress made provision in 1852.

Then there’s the pressure on every riverboat captain to keep to schedule. The slowdowns brought on by the kinds of obstacles mentioned above made the situation worse.

“I have seen these boats coming down the river like they were shot out of a cannon, turning these short bends , missing great limbs hanging over the stream from huge trees, and finally shooting out of the Big Sandy into the Ohio so fast that often they would be nearly a mile below the wharf boat before they could be stopped,” says Captain Ellis C. Mace in River Steamboats and Steamboat Men, a History.’

“In 1878, the federal government undertook the improvement of the Big Sandy River,” says Crowe-Carraco. “As funds became available, the Corps of Engineers cleared channel obstructions, removed rocks from 56 bends, and cut overhanging trees. Ugly government snagboats, commonly called ‘Uncle Sam’s toothpullers,’ removed snags and sawyers. While these improvements benefited navigation to a certain extent, they were only temporary measures and did not provide satisfactory depths for continuous navigation.”

And that brings us to the year 1879 and the tale of the Favorite, the grand old lady of the Sandy, a steamboat that had plied its waters for 30 years. The Levisa Fork of the Big Sandy was navigable by steamboats from Pikeville, where this story begins:

“Thirty-five years ago, 1879 arrived during a warm spell of weather that just about equaled this winter,” writes Edith Walters in her mother’s voice, in a term paper for the University of Pikeville. “On new years’ day peach trees were blooming. I had finished teaching my five months school and decided to visit my aunt and cousins in Lawrence County.

Peach blossom closeup, in ice

“I left Pikeville in the afternoon of January 21st on a steamboat, the only way of winter travel in those days. When I arrived at Buchanan at two a.m. the weather had become very cold and it was snowing. This continued for several days. The Big Sandy froze over and boats could not run. In the latter part of February the rain came, snow melted, the ice broke and Big Sandy went on a ‘boom’ as the river men called it.

“I had a letter from home saying – ‘come home at once. Mother is sick.‘ We called Catlettsburg and made arrangements for a boat to stop. Just after dark a steamboat whistled for that landing and we hastened to the river. When it landed we learned it was the Favorite, one of the oldest and smallest boats on the river [ed.-28 feet wide and 147 feet long]. Being in a hurry to get home, we get on board—Mrs. Burris Wright, and her brother from Praise, and myself.

“There was no ‘ladies cabin’ on this boat so they took us to the Pilot house where we had to sit up all night. A little after midnight we met a steamboat coming from Pikeville and the captain-Rhodes Owens-called to our pilot and told him he had better ‘tie up below Georges Creek and wait for day light—there were some trees lodged in the river and ‘twas dangerous.’

“Well, he didn’t tie up, and between four and five a. m. I felt a distinct jolt and shudder. I said ‘Aren’t we on that tree now?’ The pilot didn’t answer, the boat began tilting sideways, and I asked if we were turning over. The pilot said ‘yes.’

“Rose and I both started for the window but he told us to wait a minute and he got out first. We made a second jump and Rose got out first with me not far behind. We were standing by the pilot house saying, 

“Where will we go?”

”What will we do?” 

"Favorite", the grand old lady of the Sandy. She was owned by Captain Marian Spurlock and was a fast batwing type.
“Favorite”, the grand old lady of the Sandy. She was owned by Captain Marian Spurlock and was a fast batwing type.

“We could hear the water running into the fire and the steam was awful. The men were as frightened as we were. Seconds seemed minutes. The old captain was sleeping in a little room behind the Pilot House and he ran out and yelled, ‘Come this way.’ We came toward him. Rose happened to be nearest him and she was little; he caught her up and ran along the top of the boat till he could lift her to another man who had already gotten out on the tree top. There must have been two or three trees piled in there together. 

“When we got to the edge of the boat with Rose I was just behind him. I had seen Dr. Gray as we went through the boat the night before so I said, ‘Oh, Dr. Gray, where are you?’ He answered from the tree top and happened to be the man who was holding Rose on the tree. 

“Captain [Payton S.] Davidson stood on that old leg and I sat on the edge of the boat roof and he helped me off.

“The men who were in the main cabin and engine room climbed stairs for their lives, the boat sinking so quickly many of them were knee deep in water.

“The Favorite had struck the body of one of those trees like a wagon on a bank. Being old and rotten it broke in the middle and down it went. 

American made steamer trunk, 1870s
American made steamer trunk, 1870s

“Daylight found it with the Pilot House and rear end of the boat standing above the water and only the man slightly injured. My trunk was found three miles below the place where the Favorite sank.

“The passengers and crew, about thirty or forty souls, were scattered over those treetops like chickens. After daylight men who lived on the river bank brought a skiff and took us ashore.

“The farmers kept us and fed us until the next morning when another larger boat came along, and we got home without more trouble. I have heard many different tales about our rescue and how men swam out with us but we women never had our feet wet. The only persons who swam out were two boys who became so frightened they jumped into the raging, ice cold waters and swam ashore, which seemed almost impossible. No one was drowned and only one man slightly injured.”

By 1944, when Mace wrote his riverboat history, disasters like that befalling the Favorite were a distant memory. “Riches have crowned the Sandy Valley,” he said. “Great cities have sprung up on the Tug and Levisa forks. The railroad runs on both sides, and the great activity that these old-time steam boats caused has all disappeared. Outside of certain sections, all is quiet. Railroads do not create the general excitement and hustle among the people that the steamboat did, on account of the short season that the packets could run. The railroad crowded them entirely out, and now many of the younger set have never seen a steamboat on the Big Sandy.”

sources: Kentucky River Development: The Commonwealth’s Waterway, by Leland R. Johnson & Charles E. Parrish, 1999, US Army Corps of Engineers, Louisville District

“The Sinking of the Favorite,” by Edith Walters, “Folk Tales of the Cumberlan’s,” University of Pikeville Archives

Steam Navigation on the Levisa Fork, by Russell Lee Whitlock; Rootsweb site

More articles on river boats:

The ice knocked ‘The Greenland’ off the cradles and down the river(Opens in a new browser tab)

Last of the packet boats(Opens in a new browser tab)

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