The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1905-10-26
THE MARY ODONNE|L
Donovan Who Won and Lost
a Half Million.
WATER FRONT ROMANCE
Now He's Back at the Point Where
He Started His Staten Island
Ferry-"That Is What Is Left Of
My Fortune'--Rowing EN- Across
Just the Same.

front OF many city.
Pat Donovan may be found seven
days in the week at the end of rot
ten wharf iutting out from Staten ISL
and into New York Bay, near the little
railroad station at New Brighton. He
wears a sou'wester over his grizzled,
age-worn face, and he is always ready
to ferry all who venture on the pier
across the arm of the bay to the fac
tory-lined Jersey shore, good mile
away.
Most of his passengers are workers
In the factories, who have their homes
In Staten Island beyond the pail OF
smoke. Once in good while, stran-
ger picks his way along the wharf and
lowers himself into one of the aged
ferryman's boats.
A minute or two later the boat
glides past the half-submerged wreck
of what apparently was once a fine
craft Of some sort. Then. as the
stranger looks with curiosity at the
heavly-rusted machinery the rem
nants of a gilded cabin, and the crumb-
| ling pilothouse. Pat Donovan shifts
his tobacco and anticipates his pas
senger's question.
That" he says, with gruff cheer
| fulness, "is what Is left of my for
| tune.
Yes. sir" he continues, after let
| ting the boat drift close up to and
| pass the wreck and then resuming the
| oars there's the remains Of forty
years work, and here am, a man of
seventy odd, doing the same thing
did when | started out getting what's
| sunk back of you, sir.
Look behind you and see what
used to own. Just about a mile of
the waterfront near the railroad sta
| ton. Guess was worth pretty close
| to a half million Mt one time, all
| made by working night and day along
here from the day | landed from Ire
land until fifteen years ago.
| Yes, sir, started out ferrying as
yOungster right here where I'm ferry
ing you across now. That was fifty
| years ago. Been ferrying ever since,
| too. bu, not in a rowboat all that
time. No, Stree. I've taken 'em over
| in as fine 4 steam craft as ever car.
ried passengers in New York Bay. And
| that's why I'm rowing 'em across to-
day.
| Tell you how 1t was. Fifteen years
ago | got tired seeing my men rowing
| passengers over and | thought of the
property I'd managed to get hold OF
with my savings from year to year.
81 calculated | had several hundred
| thousand dollars in real estate and
buildings on it, and so | said to my.
self: Pat, | reckon you've got enough
money to take your customers across
in a decent boat And | gave orders
for steam ferryboat to be built.
| "She was as fine craft as ever
ploughed her way through the Bay
white sides, gold paint, and looking
| glasses in cabins, and a pilot house
with hard wood work and brass trim
| mings. Lord, | was proud of her-so
stuck up proud that | took her across
| myself the first week, and she he
| haved like the trim little lady she
was
Then, one day l didn't feel like
working, and | turned her over to
| Hired pilo,-and damn me, sir, she
| burned to the waters edge that same
day.
discouraged? \ boatman never
stops pulling in a squall. | was in
love with the Mary O'Donnell and |
made up my mind to bring her up
from the grave, which did, though it
cost me another $25 900 mortgage on
my property
Pat Donovan spat refectively over
the boats side.
Same old story-she burned a sec.
ond time, two months later. But her
bones are not back yonder. They be.
long to Mary O'Donnell, the third, and
she went like the others.
Yes, sir, those boats burned up un.
der my feet in less than five years,
and that's why | lost my nerve for a
while and then lost what property I
had left after clearing off the mort.
cages.
Doesn't pay to lose your nerve,
does it? Well, | got mine back after
time, and set about rowing across
here as I'd done before L could rub
two quarters together; and here | am,
still at It.
Ever wish for my fortune back?"
The steel-gray eyes twinkled, Cant
say | ever did. Amt | doing what |
did when | had the Mary O'Donnells
taking 'em across?
"Doing something was my best
pleasure then, and doing something
gives me my best times now. Besides
amt | got the memory of the days
when l had plenty of money and when
folks called me Mr.. Donovan and not
plain Pat?
Just to think of those fine times,
when I'm smoking my pipe of nights,
and to know that I've tasted of EN-,
is enough to keep me feeling happy
now.
Then there's the bones of the last
Mary O'Donnell back there. Why
every time | row past 'em laugh al
the thought of myself strutting round