Samuel Wilkeson, He Built Buffalo by Building It's Harbor, Part 4

Partial View of Buffalo Harbor in 1888

The development of Buffalo as a city has been inseparable from the development of its harbor. The building of that harbor was a turning point in Buffalo's fortunes unlike any subsequent event in the City's history. 

   The winter was bitter. Storms beat with unremitting fury against the newly built pier. Snow fell upon snow. The waters of the lake rolled in frigid agony. Ice jammed against the cribs and timbers. In the village, the homes and stores were almost lost in the drifts. The loose top snow curled and twisted in the wind, like white smoke. Logs burned steadily in fireplaces and the villagers stayed close to home. December passed into January and the bleakness of February. And still the bitter blasts blew across the waters. But in March the wind lost its icy edge. The ice floated free in the water, tinkling like broken glass as the floes nudged each other in the trough of waves and broke into fragments.

   Then April grass and leaves showed green against the earth and the branches of trees. The wind sighed. As it passed through the village it rustled the buds and carried the smell of earth and water, the scent of forest and plain, the ever- renewed feeling of spring that all is well, that all things can be done. And all was well. Throughout the winter the pier held firm. Not a timber was missing, not a crib had been moved. The stone fill was as firm as when it had been laid down. It began to look as if Buffalo would have a harbor after all. 

    AS SAM WILKESON surveyed the work that spring, he decided the attempt of the formation of the new channel, must come before further work on the pier. About the 20th of May, laborers were engaged, and the pile driver put in operation. Two rows of piles six feet apart were driven across the creek, in a line with the right bank of the intended channel, and the space between these rows of piles was filled with fine brush, straw, damaged hay, shavings, etc. This material was pressed down by drift logs, which were hoisted into their places by the use of the pile driver. On the upper side of the work, a body of sand was placed, making a cheap and tolerably tight dam, by which the creek could be raised about three feet.

   The first job was to dam off the creek at the desired point. The dam was built on a line with the right bank of the proposed channel. Once it was erected, the water in the creek rose about three feet. With part of the channel dug, the sandbank at the western end of the dam was broken. The pent up waters rushed forward with sufficient force to scour out about 15 feet of the adjoining bank to a depth of eight feet.

View of Buffalo Harbor - 1825

   Then the dam was extended across the new channel. Again the water rose. When it was brimming over the top of the dam, another sluiceway was opened and the water rushed out again to do its work, and every dam full of water let off, removed hundreds of yards of gravel and deposited it not only entirely out of the way, but at the same time filled up the old channel. The process was repeated until the channel was pushed within a few feet of the lake. Through this ingenious method, Buffalo Creek cut its own way along the desired path. It seemed victory was assured. Then, without warning, a freak of nature struck and the victory became almost total disaster.

   WORK WAS PROCEEDING steadily, and when the new channel had been pushed to within a few feet of the lake, and the strongest hopes were entertained that the channel extended to the end of the pier, would make the harbor immediately available, the work was arrested by one of the most extraordinary rises of the lake perhaps ever witnessed.  About 7 o'clock in the morning a tremendous swell suddenly rose in the lake. It was inexplicable. One moment the waters were serenely blue. The next a wave of gigantic size was roaring down upon the astonished workers. In a panic, men dropped their tools and ran for their lives. The wave struck the improvised dam with the fury of an enraged beast. The shoulder of water, traveling at frightening speed, blasted over the few feet of sand separating the works from the lake itself and flattened everything in its path. The logs which secured the materials in the dam were splintered. The east side of the dam shuddered under the impact and began to disintegrate. The west end, which was made of planks, was destroyed completely. The planks flew into the air like chips and the cracking of lumber could be heard even above the roar of the water.

   Working equipment was turned into a shambles. The pile driving scow, which had been moved to aid in the channel work, collapsed. The blind horse which furnished the motive power for the pile driver fell into the stream. From long habit, it persisted in swimming in circles and was rescued from drowning only, by a narrow margin. All the lumber, timber, piles prepared for use, with the boats, scows, and every floating article within the range of the swell were swept from their places and driven up the creek.

   THE SUDDEN SWELL was caused by a tornado which crossed the lake a few miles above Buffalo. So powerful was this wind that it cut a swath through timber on shore, felling even the stoutest trees. After securing the scows, boats and lumber which had been put afloat, the condition of the dam was examined, revealing the dam had lost its west end completely as well as 38 feet of the east end. In addition, the structure had been weakened throughout. The waters of the creek were now uncontrolled. They rushed through the dam with damaging effect. It was a hard blow and it was evident that unless repairs were made within 24 hours the entire project was doomed.
   But this was not the sum total of the trouble. In the wake of the tornado, a northeast wind commenced blowing, accompanied by a heavy rain and appearances indicated its continuance. Although a flood had been wished for, to aid in deepening and widening the new channel, the disastrous accident which had just occurred destroyed the only means of controlling it, and turning it to account. A freshet then, might open the old channel or perhaps enlarge the new one in a wrong direction, and even undermine the pier. But the rain increasing, and the weather being uncommonly cold, it was soon discovered that without a large additional force the dam could not be so far repaired as to resist the flood, which might be expected within 24 hours. The recent disaster and the importance of immediate help was communicated to the citizens, a large number of whom, as the rain fell in torrents, repaired to the dam. The pile-driver was put in operation to restore the breach at the east end of the dam. The rain beat heavily, sluicing over the men as they trudged to the dam. The dam was giving way slowly, running off in rivulets of mud. The creek beat against it from behind, the rain from above.
   Wilkeson assigned the men in groups. Some collected brush, others logs, others shoveled the crumbling earth back on the dam as fast as it was washed away. The work went on without pause. The weary men staggered over the soggy sand, bowed under their loads. And still the rain came down. Late in the afternoon a short break was taken for dinner. The meal consisted of bread and beer served to the men standing in the rain. Finally the rain slackened and stopped. Torches were lit and the labor went on in the flickering light. But the pace was beginning to tell. Men were falling away in sheer exhaustion. The creek was now a torrent. The headwaters and tributaries had felt the rain too. A mighty flow rushed toward the lake.

Buffalo Harbor Around 1850

   But Slowly, the men gained on the crumbling dam. Their first effort was directed at preventing further damage. With that accomplished they worked to restore the dam as near as possible to its original condition. Slowly, the planks and logs and earthworks were re-built. The dam began to hold. The men retired to rest, after having been exposed to the rain, cold and water, for more than 12 hours, the battle was won. The work of destruction was halted. Without this help of the citizens, it would have been impossible to make the necessary repairs on the dam; with it, and by continuing the labor of the harbor workmen by torchlight until late at night, all was done that human effort could do to prepare for the flood.
   The rain, having continued through the night, in the morning the flood was magnificent. The strong northeast wind which had prevailed for nearly 2-1/2 hours had lowered the lake two or three feet, and added much to the effect of the water in forming a new channel.  It wasn't until after the storm had subsided that Wilkeson and his men realized how great had been their victory. In stemming the disaster they had won more than they had bargained for. The torrent which had poured through the gaps in the dam had swept 20,000 cubic yards of gravel and heavy stone from the new channel bed. The creek was now flowing straight to the lake. More than that, the water had moved with such force that the stone and gravel had been carried out far enough out into the lake so that it could never again block the entrance.

  Had Wilkeson tried to remove the stone and gravel by hand it would have taken more money than was in the entire harbor fund. From the day the storm passed the channel of Buffalo Creek was 90 feet across at the bottom and 5-feet deep. "From this time," Wilkeson later wrote, "small vessels could enter and depart from Buffalo Harbor without interruption and the entry of two or three vessels in a day excited more interest then, than the arrival of 100 large vessels and boats would now."

   SO THE HARBOR builders had succeeded. But that was not the end. The pier had to be extended to deeper water. A second pier was planned. Old troubles returned. The original $12,000 loan was exhausted. More money was needed. Townsend, Forward and Wilkeson made a public appeal. Scrip was issued, entitling the bearer to a pro-rata interest in the harbor. Over $1,000 of this scrip was disposed of, for a small part of which cash was received, but the greater part was received in goods, etc.   Those who pledged to the fund knew they had small chance of getting their money back. It was called a loan, but actually it was a gift.
   Wilkeson decided to lay down a pier 200 feet long, several rods south and west of the pier already built, but in the same direction. This pier would form the western termination of the harbor. It was found much more difficult to erect piers in 10 or 12 feet of water, than in the more shallow water in which they were put down the preceding year. One difficulty attending the pier work was that of procuring a supply of stone. About 20 cords were required for each crib. The loose stone easily raised from the reefs near the harbor, had already been used, and now stone had to be brought from the Canada shore. Boats were scarce and the pile work proved to be a tedious and difficult job.  An average of 100 strokes of the hammer were required for each pile. The interruption from the swells made it necessary to work at night during calm weather. 
   The pile work was at length completed, but when secured in the best manner that could be devised, was a very imperfect barrier to the swell, and a very poor substitute for a pier. Improvements were made to the pier, adding stone where needed to reinforce, and ties six inches apart on the windward side for added security. By fall the pier was lengthened to 1,300 feet and reached water 12 feet deep.

Portion of 1825 Map Showing the Pier Completed by Samuel Wilkeson 

and all the Buffalonians Who Helped as Paid Workers and Volunteers Alike. 

 The original route of Buffalo Creek turned where you see the inlet at the foot of 

Vollenhoven Ave.  It was the first man-made harbor on the Great Lakes.

   Thus was completed the first work of the kind ever constructed on the lakes. It had occupied 221 working days in building (the laborers always resting on the Sabbath), and extended into the lake about 80 rods to 12 feet of water. It was begun, carried on and completed principally by three private individuals, Charles Townsend, Oliver Forward and Samuel Wilkeson, some of whom mortgaged the whole of their real estate to raise the means for making an improvement in which they had but a common interest.
   The harbor builders believed the next spring floods would so deepen and widen the entrance to the channel that even the Walk-in-the-Water could enter it. That now became their dearest hope. Their victory would be complete when the only steamboat on the Great lakes forsook its home Port of Black Rock and made Buffalo its home. But the Walk-in-the-Water was destined never to enter Buffalo harbor. It was through events surrounding the Walk-in-the-Water, however, that Buffalo finally was to win through to the place it had sought with such effort and valor.

End of Part 4: 
PART 5
PART THREE
PART TWO
PART ONE

Samuel Wilkeson, He Built Buffalo By Building It's Harbor: Part 3

Buffalo From the Light House

In all Buffalo's history no event was so significant to the future welfare of the city as the building of the first harbor. This task, carried on despite tremendous physical and economic obstacles, was an act of civic zeal unmatched in the later annals of the city. 

   THE exact date in which the harbor work was begun is not on record, but it was some time before May 20th in 1820.  The rains were heavy that spring when Sam Wilkeson got his cook shack and sleeping quarters built. Day after day, clouds hung in leaden-gray banks over the lake and then moved inland before the wind. The rain came in driving blasts against the village. The earth was sodden. Men sank almost to their knees in mud when they walked in the streets.

   INSIDE the homes of the frontier village, fireplaces were still lit against the dampness. Trees stood dark and forlorn in the rain, black with water, writhing in the wind. Against the lake shore, waves crashed in roaring spray as the wind churned the surface into, whitecaps which gleamed, even in darkness, like bared teeth.

   IT was not the kind of weather in which men liked to leave the snugness of their homes. The day after the cook shack and sleeping quarters were built, Wilkeson sent out a call for laborers to assemble at daybreak. Only a few responded. He called the work off. For several more days the project was stalled. Then, with characteristic determination. Wilkeson broke the bottleneck. He made a standing offer of $2 a month more than the regular wage, if the men agreed to work regardless of weather. The result was gratifying and the problem was solved. Thereafter the men worked six days a week, from dawn to sunset, with a half hour break for breakfast and an hour for lunch. There was little absenteeism and only one case of intoxication on the job. Almost without exception, the men who began the project worked through to the end. There were no fights among the workers.
    Wilkeson writes: “Two plans had been proposed for the work; One by driving parallel lines of piles and filling up the intermediate space with brush and stone, and the other by a pier of hewn timber, filled with stone. The latter plan was adopted. The timber intended for piles was used in the construction of cribs, three of which were put down the first day.” Since few tools were on hand, the cribs could be put down only when the lake was perfectly smooth. As far as possible, they were fitted on shore. The opposite timbers were made secure with six-foot ties bored and numbered and then floated to their places. There they were assembled. The trunnels, two feet long and made of oak or hickory, were driven home. It took an hour to put the crib together. On the same day it was assembled, it was sunk and secured with stone.

   ON the first day of work the lake was calm. Three cribs were built and sunk. The weather remained good the second day and the work proceeded. But late on the second night, the wind rose suddenly. There was no breakwater to protect the shore. The waves chopped their way landward, lashing against the cribs until daybreak. When Wilkeson arrived at the scene in the morning, it was as if ruin stared him in the face. The waves had eaten away at the sand and gravel on which the cribs had been sunk. Almost all the cribs were out of line. In some cases the sides were sunk, in others the ends were deeper. They jutted this way and that, “the whole presenting a most discouraging appearance.”
    But as he waded into the water to examine the worst damage, He writes: "Fortunately a little brush had been accidentally thrown to the windward side of one of the piers, which became covered with sand, and preserved this pier from the fate of the others." There he found the key to his problem. "Profiting by this discovery every crib subsequently put down was placed on a thick bed of brush, extending several feet to the windward of it."

   JUDGE Wilkeson's faithfulness to the underlying principle of the undertaking, economy; is indicated in the following paragraph of the record:  "Neither clerk, nor other assistant, not even a carpenter to layout the work, was employed for the first two months, to aid the superintendent, who, besides directing all the labor, making contracts, receiving materials, etc., labored in the water with the men, as much exposed as themselves, and conformed to the rules prescribed to them of commencing work at daylight and continuing until dark, allowing half an hour for breakfast and an hour for dinner. Besides the labors of the day, he was often detained until late at night, waiting the arrival of boats, to measure their loads of stone, and to see them delivered in the pier, as without this vigilance some of the boatmen would unload their stone into the lake, which was easier than to deposit it in the pier."

Heck, "I could do this blindfolded." 
A Blind horse and a cannon begin work on 
Buffalo's Harbor

   THE improvised pile driver was pressed into use. It took 100 strokes of the old Army mortar to drive each pile to the desired depth. As the work progressed out into the lake a platform was built for the blind horse which furnished the motive power for the pile driver. The horse plodded round and round on the wooden planks; a few feet above the surface of the lake. Two months after the work got under way, Wilkeson hired a carpenter at $1 a day to build the timbering of the piers above the lake surface. By autumn the pier extended almost 800 feet into the lake and Wilkeson's crews were sinking cribs at a depth of 7 1/2 feet. As the pier-construction proceeded, and the deeper water was reached, "the cost of the work alarmingly increased." It was decided "to suspend operations for that year." Possibly they hoped to gather additional funds during the winter months. But if the future of the harbor was uncertain, in matters of money and of use, the builders had had the satisfaction of seeing that the cribs could make a harbor.

   ON SEPT. 7, 1820, the still incomplete project underwent it first test. The timber work was finished but the pier was only partly filled with stone. That afternoon two small vessels came under the lee of the pier and made fast. The captains went ashore to conduct some business. As evening approached, clouds piled in threatening banks in the sky. The wind rose suddenly. A storm was definitely in the making. Fearful that, if the storm came, the two vessels might carry away the part of the pier to which they were fastened. Wilkeson sought out the two captains and asked them to move the ships. But he was too late. While they were talking the gale broke. The wind drove spray like buckshot. The water seethed, waves, broke with a roar against the pier. To move the ships now was impossible, unless they were simply to be cast loose and allowed to run on shore. Despite the fact their vessels could be damaged seriously in the process, the two captains agreed to do-this if it appeared the pier would collapse.

   THE ships rose and fell in the pounding waves, crashing against the pier as the water bore down an them, pulling with tremendous weight at their lines as they rolled away. In the blur of wind and water, Wilkeson waited for the storm to pass. Then he saw for the first time how well the challenge of the elements had been met. Neither the pier nor the ships, were damaged. The next day the work of filling the pier with stone was resumed. The pier, which at this time extended 50 rods into the lake, was in a few days filled with stone, and the operations upon it suspended for the season."

    NOW another problem had to be met. The pier was only part of the harbor plan. The most difficult part was yet to come. This involved cutting a new straight channel for Buffalo Creek and it also was the most dangerous element in the entire operation. No one knew whether the plan for the new channel would succeed. If it did not, there was no additional money on hand to meet the emergency and the entire harbor project was doomed. 

   AT that time, Buffalo Creek entered the lake about 1,000 feet north of its present mouth. For some distance it ran almost parallel to the lake shore behind a bank of sand. The new channel was to be cut across this sand-spit, thus making it possible for ships to sail directly from the lake into the creek without navigating the sharp bends.

Map showing Harbor Pier Built by Wilkeson near bottom of 

Map. Original route of Buffalo Creek at the Foot of 

Vollenhoven Ave.

   THE plan was to scrape through the sand, dam the stream, form the beginning of a new channel, and hope that spring floods would scour it to sufficient depth. Tools were gathered and a call went out for volunteers. The villagers responded quickly. Work was begun in November. The volunteers walked out over the sandpit, took their places along the route of the desired channel, and started to dig and scrape. But just a few feet below the surface heavy stone and gravel were encountered. The stone was of such size it was doubtful whether the spring freshets would carry it out to the deep water of the lake. If it was not carried far enough, it would serve only to block the channel at another point.It was late in the year. The wind was sharp and there were hints of early snow. The new problem, could not be solved in time. The scraping of the channel was suspended before water level was reached. It was something that would have to be resumed in the spring.
    But while all work had stopped, Wilkeson's worries had not. All during the remainder of the fall and through the winter, Buffalonians watched the pier with anxiety. Its fate was out of their hands and they could only wait. Snow, sleet and hail, the pounding of frigid waters, the razor-edged scraping and tremendous weight of ice, the winter winds which howled across the lake with unremitting fury--if the work should be destroyed by gales, or by ice, "the fund remaining would be insufficient to repair the damage. These were the challenges the pier now had to meet. By spring Buffalo would know the answer.

End of Part Three: 
Part Four
Part Two

Part One
Part Five

Samuel Wilkeson, Harbor Builder, Part Two

The Walk-In-The-Water.....built in Black Rock, spurred Buffalo ambitions. The small group of citizens who overcame tremendous physical and economic obstacles to construct Buffalo's first harbor laid the foundations for this city's future greatness....Without them, Buffalo would have remained just another frontier village. 

  THE PLAN to Make the Village of Buffalo a great harbor city had its origins not only in the development of the Erie Canal but in a bitter commercial rivalry with the Village of Black Rock. The rivalry had existed almost from the time the two villages were founded. When Joseph Ellicott was commissioned by the Holland Land Company to lay out a village near Buffalo Creek, he saw at once that Black Rock had more natural advantages than Buffalo. Fearful that his work would be undone, Ellicott wrote in 1802 to Paul Busti, general agent of the company, urging that the lands at Buffalo be opened for sale immediately. Black Rock clearly "was equally or more advantageous for a town than Buffalo," he wrote, and Buffalo's opportunity might be lost if the land sales were delayed.

Main Street Buffalo 1825

  The Holland Land Co. purchase did not extend to Black Rock and Ellicott could not carry his work that far. There is no doubt that, if he could, he would have laid out the Village of New Amsterdam, as he intended to call the community, near Tonawanda Creek instead of Buffalo Creek. Ellicott realized immediately Black-Rock had a natural harbor while the mouth of Buffalo Harbor was blocked by a sand bar which prevented all vessels but canoes from entering. This sand bar was for many years a tombstone on Buffalo's hopes. In dry weather it could be walked across. Even when rain was frequent, the water rarely rose higher than a man's waist.

   IN BLACK ROCK there were forces which made the rivalry more intense. Peter B. Porter and his brother, Augustus, were making strenuous efforts to monopolize Black Rock's harbor facilities. Long before Buffalo could dream of such a venture, the Porter brothers were busy with shipbuilding and shipping.  But Busti heeded Ellicott's plea and Buffalo began to grow. Still, there was no portent of the village's future in those early days.  The eyes of early Buffalonians were turned more to the earth beneath their feet than to the water at their doorstep. It was natural this should be. The land around Buffalo was fair. From Lake Erie to the Genesee, pine grew in the ridges and hemlock in the valleys. Upon the plain, mile after mile, stood an unbroken stand of maple, oak and elm.

Village of Black Rock

  But along Buffalo and Tonawanda Creeks, the land was swampy. In summer, thick swarms of mosquitos and flies rose from the water's edge. Just before the swamp, near the banks of the stream where the beginnings of Buffalo were to be made, were thick groves of basswoods. The prehistoric lake beach, of which the Terrace is now a part, was a stretch of treeless bluff overlooking the lake. Below the lake beach, along the easterly border of the Niagara River, was a succession of sand dunes. This was not a country to which harbor builders came. In spring it was the scent of bursting buds that carried on the wind, not the smells of water and ships. In October, the smell of wood smoke hung in the air, not the whirling of trade winds. In winter, part of the lake was frozen. There was no way to leave. 

    Black Rock, proud of its reputation as a shipping center, busy and prosperous as a result of its role in the salt trade, which was the main commodity of commerce on the lakes at that time, shrugged off Buffalo's protestations of equality. It watched, almost with condescension, the reconstruction of the village the British had burned.

   While Buffalo struggled for sheer survival, Black Rock made plans for its future. But the idea of the Erie Canal grew. And with it the conviction of Buffalo's citizens that the western terminus of the canal must be located in Buffalo. This was to be the Phoenix springing from the ashes of burned Buffalo. Black Rock was a shrewd and resourceful opponent. Its men were working as vigorously as Buffalo's to gain the great prize of the canal. Letters were dispatched, wherever there were men to be influenced or policies to be decided, lobbyists for both sides were hard at work. In 1817 construction on the first portion of the canal got under way near Rome. It was expected that 10 years would elapse before the project was completed. But Black Rock didn't wait. Just one year after the first canal excavation was begun, Black Rock took a mighty step in its campaign to become the western terminus of the canal.

    A group of New York businessmen were persuaded to finance the building at Black Rock of the first steamer to be put afloat on the Great Lakes. It was a major effort and on the day the ship was launched in August of 1818, there was a civic celebration in Black Rock. The steamship was called the Walk-In-The-Water, not only because of its sailing characteristics but in honor of a neighboring Wyandotte chief. It was built along the general lines of Robert Fulton's Clermont and used sails as well as steam. But instead of closing out Buffalo's claim as the logical terminus of the canal, the launching of the Walk-In-The-Water was fuel for the flames of Buffalo's ambition to overcome its old rival.

   Despite its steam boilers and sails; the Walk-In-The-Water could not breast the rapid current of the Niagara. The vessel was ready for use about the middle of August. Again and again it poured all its power into an attempt to steam upriver into the lake. Each time it fell back, its engines too weak to force the passage. After several days of this unavailing effort, the owners of the vessel swallowed their chagrin and asked Capt. Sheldon Thompson of Black Rock for the loan of his celebrated "Horn Breeze," the ox teams which dragged sailing vessels against the current until they reached the relatively calmer waters of the lake.

   On Aug. 23, the final effort was made. The "Horn Breeze" was attached by cable to the ship and a pounding head of steam was built up in the vessel's boilers. The stokers flung wood into the fireplaces, the drivers cracked their bullwhips, the oxen strained against the line, and to the cheers of spectators and shouting of drivers and crew, the vessel finally moved upstream. Thus, with the aid of one of the most ancient motive powers, the age of the newest motive power was inaugurated on the lakes.

     BUT THE EXPERIENCE of the Walk-In-The-Water proved that if vessels were to use this end of the lake with regularity, a harbor would have to be built in Buffalo. Only thus would the time-consuming and expensive method of hauling the ships against the Niagara current be overcome. Samuel Wilkeson, a man who saw this city, at perhaps, its most degrading time in our history, had, along with three other resolute Buffalonians, recognized that Buffalo's fate, lie in its getting a harbor. A good harbor, would most certainly bring the termination of the Erie Canal to Buffalo.

End of Part Two
Part Three
Part Four

Part One

Part Five