From pocket liner to the funkiest freighter on Puget Sound: the S.S./M.V. Iroquois

Published by Chinooksteve on

Very little changed with the Iroquois in her early years on Puget Sound. This hand-tinted postcard shows the vessel not looking much different than she did when built for service on the Great Lakes in 1901.

No vessel went through such transformation as the Iroquois. With a career that lasted 83 years, that’s probably not a surprise, but the various guises the vessel took on over the years ranged from one boxy, somewhat inelegant rebuild to a transfiguration into one of the weirdest looking vessels on Puget Sound–or anywhere, for that matter.

The Puget Sound Navigation Company, not yet having reclaimed the “Black Ball Line” name, purchased three Great Lakes steamers that had been built by the Craig Shipbuilding Company of Toledo, Ohio between 1900 and 1904. They were, in order, Chippewa (1900) Iroquois (1901) and Indianapolis (1904). All were idled by 1906 and PSN picked them and brought them to Puget Sound–all the way around South America as there was no Panama Canal at that time.

Iroquois, built as a sister/running mate to the Chippewa, was the largest of the three, and arrived on Puget Sound on 30 March 1907 completing the trip from New York to Seattle in 66 days. Upon arrival in Seattle she was converted from coal to oil burning and plunged into the rate war with Canadian Pacific on the Seattle-Vancouver-Victoria run. She carried on in this capacity pretty much uninterrupted until the advent of WWI.

The Iroquois, along with the Chippewa, were requestioned as training ships. The were used in that capacity until the end of the war in November of 1918, being returned to PSN ownership in the spring of 1919. Both steamers were then idled and considered “surplus” to the company, which, by 1919 was already seeing the change in direction from passenger steamer to auto ferry. In the next couple of years, several of the larger steamers would be converted to car carrying ferries, starting with the Seattle and City of Bremerton in 1922.

Iroquois, on the other hand, was sold to the Chicago and South Haven Steamship Company and made her way back to the Great Lakes. This time she was able to use the Panama Canal to make her way back.

A rare postcard shot of the Iroquois after she returned to the Great Lakes.

It wasn’t too last long. The steamer didn’t prove to be any more successful on the lakes than she had the first time around. After seven years of unprofitable service, the banks foreclosed on the Iroquois, and she was offered up for sale in the fall of 1927. The buyer at the sale was none other than the Puget Sound Navigation Company.

PSN had definite plans for the steamer this time around. She was to be converted from a steamer to a plush, overnight ferry from Seattle to Victoria, mimicking service already being offered by Canadian Pacific. To this end, she was widened from 34 to 46 feet. She had bow and side-loading doors installed, two bridal suites (fitted, inexplicably, with twin beds) 6 two-berth suites on the top deck and 64 two-berth suites one deck below. Fitting out was completed with a ladies’ lounge, observation room, smoking room and a full-service dining room. Her car deck could accommodate 40-50 cars.

Looking aft towards the observation room.

The trim lines of the steamer somewhat disappeared into a somewhat squarish, but not entirely unpleasant looking vessel. She was not perhaps in the same league as the Princess Kathleen and Princess Marguerite (both 1925) or the Princess Elizabeth and Princess Joan which would work the overnight route between Seattle, Port Townsend, Port Angeles and Victoria starting in 1930, but she was worthy rival and beginning with her departure at midnight on 21 August 1928 she proved to be an immensely popular vessel.

For the next 19 years the Iroquois sailed uneventfully on the run. There was one notable grounding and one collision, but otherwise the ferry carried on as normal, sailing each night from Seattle at midnight. Service on the Port Angeles-Victoria run was supplemented on the run by the steamer Olympic, the former Sioux.

The Iroquois with either the Princess Joan or Elizabeth, the competition from Canadian Pacific, moored behind her.

In 1947, Black Ball introduced the ultra-modern Chinook to take the place of the aging Iroquois which was already expensive to run with her antique steam engine. When the Chinook went into service that June, the Iroquois was sent into lay-up alongside the City of Sacramento and Malahat. While Captain Peabody wrangled with the State of Washington over continued ferry service, eventually selling out to the state in 1950, with the State taking over in June 1951, the Malahat saw service running freight and occasionally supplementing service for the Chinook. The City of Sacramento would be towed out in 1953 to be rebuilt as the Kahloke, but it looked like the end of the line had come for the Iroquois.

The old meets the new: the Iroquois witnesses the launch of her replacement, the Chinook.

As it turns out other plans were made for the aging ferry, one that would see her totally transformed for a third time. In addition to her rebuilding, she would be converted from steam power to diesel.

Black Ball Freight, a former subsidiary of the Black Ball Line but now a separate company, had been operating freight runs between Seattle and the Olympic Peninsula since the 1930’s. With PSN moving its operations to Canada, Black Ball Freight bought the PSN dock at Port Townsend, the Iroquois, and the permits to run a (rail) car barge operation between Seattle and Bremerton. This caused a legal problem, as the law at the time did not allow a motor carrier (trucks) to own any other mode of transportation. As a result, in 1954 the Black Ball Transport Inc. was formed as a subsidiary of Black Ball Freight.

While this was going, in November of ’52 the Iroquois went to Tacoma Boat Company. The boilers and steam engine were removed, and with them the smokestacks. A Fairbanks-Morse diesel engine was installed in its place. The entire upper deck was removed, including the observation lounge and six of the suites. The two bridal suites were removed and rebuilt into a new wheelhouse. The saloon deck became the boat deck, and two lifeboats were added. The bow doors were removed, nearly all the staterooms were demolished, with the ladies lounge becoming the galley and mess for the officers and crew.

The Iroquois in Victoria, 1955.

With her hull painted scarlet, the end result was a truncated, bizarre looking craft that resembled more a self-propelled barge than a ship. There was certainly nothing of it that harkened back to the trim lines of the passenger steamer that came out of the yard in Toledo back in 1901. Even though some elements of the 1928 rebuild remained, there was very little to tip off the casual observer to the fact that this was the same vessel that had been the elegant, if boxy night ferry that had once held her own against the pocket liners of the Canadian Pacific Line.

This news clipping on the Iroquois really shows the difference in her profile from one rebuild to the next.

The funky freighter sailed for Black Ball Transport on her own until the Coho arrived in 1959. At that point, both vessels would carry freight for the company, mostly paper from the Port Townsend mill, but other goods as well, with the Iroquois, still a roller, sitting the winters out at Lake Union. She carried on in this capacity until 1969.

The Iroquois was put up for sale in 1972. Sold in 1973 to become an Alaska king crab processor, she was renamed Alaska Shell where she worked processing crab for the next decade. Her owners went bankrupt, and the ship was taken over by the bank. Finally abandoned, the old Iroquois was towed out to deep water past Auktan. Explosive charges were set off, and on 15 April 1984, the Iroquois slipped under the waves, ending 83 years of service.

With the advent of cheaper photography after WWII, it’s kind of surprising there aren’t more photos of the freighter version of the Iroquois out there. With her bright red hull, it was pretty hard missing her. Likewise, it’s surprising there aren’t more photos taken of her while she was on winter lay up on Lake Union.

The answer? Well, she just wasn’t that photogenic. I’ve heard the words “bizarre”, “ugly”, and “hideous” leveled at her. Hard to argue, but like the Malahat, I’ve always had a soft spot for the goofy looking boat. Regardless of her looks, she was, by all accounts, well thought of by both crews and her owners. In recounting some of her exploits for Ferryboats: A Legend on Puget Sound Black Ball Transport owner Lois Acheson described her as a “good boat” and that said that she missed her.

Few people remember the old Iroquois today. Gone now for over forty years, she’s faded into history, remembered only by historians and aficionados of unconventional looking ships.


3 Comments

Mark Stearns · April 8, 2024 at 12:04 am

As usual, another great read! I love these history lessons as you take us down memory lane. As usual, another question. Why don’t former WSF fleet vessels enjoy an after life like the Malahat and the Irroquois? Are they too difficullt to rebuild into something else? It seems only the former Kulshan and Enetai have had a real “happily ever after”. The rest have either sunk, been scapped or turned into fish factories.

    Chinooksteve · April 8, 2024 at 12:35 am

    There’s a lot to unpack there. It’d be easy to say “times were different” but that’s partly true in the case of the Iroquois and City of Sacramento. This wasn’t too long after the end of the war, and building materials were still scarce and tremendously expensive. It was a lot cheaper to rebuild an existing vessel than start from scratch. The Matson line, for example, didn’t refurbish a few of its ships after the war because the cost was too much. Also, there’s the size to consider. The City of Sacramento, which always looked huge, was the same length as the Evergreen State. The Iroquois was 100 feet shorter than that.

    So many got converted to canneries in the 60’s because the Alaska earthquake/tsunami had wiped out most of the shore-based facilities. Converting a ferry into a cannery was a quick solution, but once the shore-based facilities were rebuilt, most of the floating ones were abandoned. (Or sank, or in the case of the Leschi, left a wreck on the beach.)

    Now I would say that most ferries aren’t being used for something else much for the same reason– it is too expensive to do so. Let’s face it, the ferries that are retired are old. Any major alterations are subject to changing Coast Guard regulations and that can really add to conversion expenses. It’s why so many of the older cruise ships went to the breakers when the SOLAS standards were raised in 2012–it’s just cheaper to build something new that meets current standards than try to fix a 50+ year old vessel to meet the current regulations.

    The Hiyu has had a successful second life because she’s so small. The former Kulshan is still in service after several major upgrades, including new engines and propulsion and the former Enetai hasn’t moved under her own power since 1968.

    Ferries are so purposefully built for the task, it’s hard to repurpose them for other uses–what, for example, would you actually do with a 383-foot vessel that doesn’t meet current ADA standards? How successful would any business operated in it have to be in order to pay for the moorage expenses, which would be huge? How do you deal with waste disposal, sewage treatment, etc? It adds up really, really fast. And, according to sources, WSF doesn’t throw anything away until it is well past useless.

      Mark Stearns · April 9, 2024 at 1:36 am

      Wow! Thank you for the greatly detailed answer. I loved your final line, “WSF doesn’t throw anything away until it is well past useless.” A crazy dream since childhood as been to make a home from the Rhododendron or the Klahowya upon retirement. Well, I grew up, the vessels retired, and reality shattered the dream. Like you said, mooring alone would be cost prohibitive, not to mention the periodic drydocking to scrape barnicles, and the painting to keep the rust away. I will still love the ferries, especially the old ones, but will live in a stick built home.

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