Anarchist Cruises

From Anarchistories by Tom Goyens

When Radical Politics Went Steamboating

In July 1900, Jewish stage actors were invited to perform during a steamboat excursion organized by the Yiddish-speaking anarchist movement. There was just one problem. Through their union, the actors declined, explaining that they were accustomed to performing on a fixed stage. As one representative put it, “No actor wishes to make a fool of himself, standing on a ship and acting scenes or declaiming there while the ship rocks.” The editors reassured them that no performance was necessary. “Instead of coming to our excursion as performers,” they replied, “we ask all Jewish actors and actresses to come as our guests.”1

Behind this lighthearted exchange lay a serious purpose. The excursion was organized to raise money for Fraye Arbeter Shtime (Free Voice of Labor), the movement’s newspaper, which was edited and printed in New York. It would become the second-longest-running anarchist periodical in the world after Freedom, appearing from 1890 until 1977. By 1914, its circulation exceeded thirty thousand copies, and it was widely regarded as one of anarchism’s most influential publications. Its early years, however, were anything but secure. The paper struggled financially and faced fierce competition from established Yiddish socialist newspapers, which largely ignored or boycotted the anarchist newcomer.2

Because anarchists generally reject electoral politics, they have historically depended on grassroots institutions and a vibrant movement culture to sustain their ideas. That culture included demonstrations and union organizing, but also lectures, theater, music, and recreation. At the center of it all stood the anarchist press. Newspapers served as news outlets, forums for debate, and clearinghouses for movement activities. In many ways, the newspaper was the movement. Supporting it was therefore more than a practical necessity; it was an expression of radical identity.

This is where the cruises enter the picture. Thousands of Jewish anarchists and sympathizers in the New York area subscribed to Fraye Arbeter Shtime, at least in theory. In reality, the editors were constantly warning readers that funds were running low. To keep the presses running, anarchists devised creative fundraising strategies, and steamboat excursions became one of the most successful.

Such outings were already a favorite pastime among all New Yorkers. With rivers, coves, and wooded shorelines surrounding the city, excursion boats offered an affordable escape from crowded neighborhoods. Immigrant anarchists eagerly embraced the trend. German anarchists had organized a Hudson River excursion in 1892 to benefit their newspaper, Freiheit.3 The Jewish socialist movement soon made similar excursions an annual tradition, and Jewish anarchists followed suit in 1900. Some years they chartered two or even three boats, carrying nearly three thousand “friends and supporters of the FAS.”4 Though these outings were not political actions in the usual sense, they reveal how radical movements actually sustained themselves. Fundraising was not a peripheral activity but an essential part of movement life.

 

The financial stakes were significant. Tickets cost fifty cents per adult, with children under twelve admitted free. The price included food and drinks and amounted to roughly $20 in today's money. For many working-class families, this represented about a quarter of a day's wages. Yet supporters understood what was at stake. “The cash box must be refilled,” the editors warned, “and that can only happen if today’s excursion is a great success.”5

To make the price seem reasonable, the editors compared it to a picnic ticket, which typically cost only ten or fifteen cents. A picnic, however, required additional spending on streetcars, ferries, food, and drink. “You will not let yourselves be fooled. You will come to our excursion!” they urged readers.6 And they had a point. Most Jewish anarchists lived on Manhattan's Lower East Side, within easy walking distance of the Market Street docks where the boats usually departed. Participants could simply show up without bringing provisions.

When successful, the results were impressive. The 1903 excursion, for example, generated a profit of about $700, roughly $26,000 today. Every cent went back into the newspaper and other propaganda efforts. The editors celebrated the achievement. “We are proud of this success,” one reviewer declared, “because we know in our hearts that we have honestly earned it, and that people know how to value earnest striving for its own sake.”7 With printing costs continually rising, they hoped to repeat that success every summer.

Part of the excursions’ success lay in what they offered working-class families trapped in overcrowded tenements and exhausting, exploitative jobs. Sometimes the simple chance to breathe fresh air was reason enough to spend a day on the water. A buffet of food and drinks awaited the passengers, along with entertainment. Despite the concerns of some actors about performing on a rocking boat, the excursions usually featured an orchestra and choir. On the return trip, the decks were illuminated and decorated.

But these outings offered more than fundraising and recreation. They created a temporary space where participants could experience anarchism in practice. Spending a day together away from work, surrounded by like-minded people, fostered a sense of solidarity and community. As one advertisement put it, “It is time that we become a little closer and better acquainted with one another, and there is no better opportunity for that than at our excursion on July 27th.”8

The movement likewise took pride in providing its own wholesome recreation rather than relying on employers whose authority workers so often challenged through strikes. One announcement appealed directly to this sentiment: “This excursion will be one of the most enjoyable pleasures that a poor worker can hope for in the present time.”9

The anarchists were equally eager to distinguish themselves from the socialists, who organized similar excursions but also spent money on party organization and election campaigns—activities anarchists regarded as a waste of resources. Their advertisements boasted that anarchists were unrivaled in organizing steamboat outings because they “devote all their energies to making sure that people do not grow bored for the money they spend.”10 Apparently, some socialists agreed, for the organizers noted with satisfaction that “not a few of our principled opponents” attended the 1903 excursion.11

Sometimes, however, tragedy intervened. On June 15, 1904, the paddle steamer General Slocum, chartered by a German-American church and carrying 1,358 passengers, caught fire and sank in the East River. The disaster claimed 1,021 lives, most of them women and children, making it one of the deadliest accidents in American history and one of the greatest tragedies ever to strike the German American community. The Fraye Arbeter Shtime published a heart-rending article titled “Who is Guilty?” after survivors reported that the pumps failed, the life preservers crumbled from age, and the crew was hopelessly inexperienced.12 Despite the catastrophe, the Jewish anarchists decided to proceed with their own excursion, scheduled for July 16.

The following year’s outing, on July 22, 1905, was successful in many respects but ended in tragedy—not on the water, but on shore. The day began ominously, with threatening skies suggesting that rain might ruin the event. Even so, about 2,500 hopeful passengers gathered at the docks. That morning, the rival socialist paper Forverts added to the anxiety by publishing a sensational story about another steamer that had run aground the previous day near the site of the General Slocum disaster. “The weather and the Forverts,” the Fraye Arbeter Shtime editors complained, “both did their best to make the excursion of the Fraye Arbeter Shtime a failure.”13

 

As the steamer and two companion boats made their way up the Hudson, the weather improved, and spirits rose. In the early evening, the passengers disembarked at Riverview Grove, today’s Alpine Marina in New Jersey, across the river from Yonkers. Towering above the shore were the Palisades, a dramatic wall of volcanic rock stretching for miles along the Hudson. Excursions there had only recently become possible after preservationists succeeded in saving the cliffs from destruction by quarry operators.

Once ashore, many passengers climbed a winding staircase to the summit, where spectacular views, including distant Manhattan, rewarded their efforts. Others, eager for adventure, ignored the path and “climbed the hill as nature created it.” Suddenly, a boulder broke loose and tumbled downhill. A scream shattered the festive atmosphere as it struck two people. Nineteen-year-old Ella Osofsky of Brooklyn was killed, while Samuel Katz suffered a broken leg and was taken to the hospital. Dr. Iser Ginzburg, a contributor to several Yiddish radical papers, tried in vain to revive her.14 The excursion ended in shock and mourning. According to The New York Times, Osofsky had been accompanied by her fiancé, Benjamin Levy of the Bronx.15

The conservative Yidishes Tageblatt (Jewish Daily News) compounded the grief by falsely reporting that fifteen people had been killed and implying that such mayhem was typical of an anarchist excursion. The Fraye Arbeter Shtime responded furiously, denouncing the Tageblatt editors as “a vile pack of scoundrels and honor-defamers.”16

 

The 1906 excursion proved to be the most successful yet, drawing three thousand participants aboard three ships. This time the organizers chose the scenic grounds of Locust Grove on Long Island’s north coast. The only melancholy note was the absence of the German anarchist orator and editor John Most, who had died that March at age sixty. A beloved figure among the Jewish anarchists, Most had often joined these excursions, entertaining guests with his fiery speeches. “In each of us,” wrote the Fraye Arbeter Shtime, “there lingered a longing memory of the teacher and friend.”17 Financially, the outing was an outstanding success, generating about $1,100 in net profits and lifting the newspaper out of the precarious situation of previous years. The 1907 excursion matched that achievement, confirming that the annual cruise had become one of the movement's most effective and most cherished institutions.

Before you go, I’ve enabled pledges if you’d consider supporting this work in the future. —Tom Goyens