Paddlefest 2012

Paddlefest 2012

This past Sunday in Cincinnati, over 2200 people took to their canoe, kayak or other non-powered mode of transportation and paddled down the Ohio River from Coney Island to the Public Landing -- a trip of eight miles.  Unfortunately, no matter what I did, I couldn't capture it as I would have liked because I needed a telephoto lens.  Just take my word for it -- it was fantastic. One of the stated purposes is to celebrate the resource that the Ohio River is to our community.

The East End - Guest Author Dorothy Weil

Several years ago, I read a book The River Home by Dorothy Weil. It touched me.  In the process of writing this blog, I've repeatedly recalled some of the images of the East End and the Ohio River that Dorothy so poignantly described. One chapter, in particular, discusses the educational experiences of the so-called "River Rats" from one Cincinnati neighborhood.

Today I wrote to Dorothy and asked permission to share one chapter with you.  She graciously agreed to allow me to do so. If you love her writing as much as I do, take a few minutes to visit her website, to learn about her and the books she has published. She has also assisted in the production of several videos about life on the river and in the East End.

So with Dorothy's permission, I share with you "The East End."

The East End

School was a big Victorian building between Eastern Avenue and the railroad tracks. It was the oldest school building in the city, with wooden beams in the gym and chutes to slide down as fire escapes. We all longed to try them, but fire drill was just a march through the halls and onto the playground.

The playground was only ten feet from the trains that chugged through regularly, throwing soot over everything. When we kids played kickball we came away looking like end men in a minstrel show. Also in the blacktopped yard were the "shacks" where the "dumb kids" went. These were separate barracks manned by the strongest and most fearless teachers and populated by the hopeless.

There were smart kids and dumb kids, fat kids and skinny kids, bad kids and good kids. One of the boys in my sixth-grade class was a Down's syndrome child; the other children called him Dopey after the dwarf in Snow White and teased him without mercy. Howard, a tall, handsome boy, had a horrible smell, a smell so bad no one would be his buddy in line or take his hand. No one did anything to help these children. Our teachers were old maids, usually with iron-gray hair. They dressed in subdued colors and sensible shoes. They loved their subjects and encouraged the alert and motivated. They had no interest in social problems or the unprepared. Howard probably never knew what was wrong.

Every kid had a nickname, usually based on his or her worst feature: there was "Tits," a boy who had pronounced breasts, and "Wharthog" and "Meatface," both struggling with pre-teen acne. I was dubbed "BBD" for "Big Butt Dorothy."

We were seated by level of achievement. I was soon competing for the first seat in the first row by the door. Poor Howard brought up the rear in the last seat in the last row by the window. In between were rows of dozing kids as the teacher lectured on the Constitution and "Initiative and Referendum."

Even singing class was hierarchical: the sopranos were "Bluebirds," the altos and tenors were "Robins," and the basses and lower-voiced were "Crows," a nomenclature that obviously favored the higher registers.

In spite of my standing in the class, or maybe because of it, I felt out of place. I was a new kid on the block once again, a kid who talked like a book.

Though I might have been smart, I was still a "River Rat." I hated writing down my address: "Boat, Foot of Donham Street." I wanted a house number and a street name, something solid and respectable. Everyone else lived in secure homes that stayed put on the small, shady streets of the East End, while I hiked up to school from the river. 

I spent hours in the library at the corner of Donham and Eastern reading Louisa May Alcott and the Brontes. The Brontes gave me romance, but Alcott gave me more solid dreams. I wanted to have a family like Jo's: intelligent, peaceful, loving and living in New England in a shingled house with lilac bushes and apple trees. Half headachy from print (I was always suffering various aches and itches) and due for dinner at the yacht club, I would walk a block down Donham, then often be held up by a stalled freight train. To get by, I would climb under a coupling or crawl under a car, fully prepared to hit the dirt and lie flat if the train started.

The kids of the East End were quite aware of the area's low-class reputation and soon taught us not to mention where we were from if we went outside the neighborhood, to the skating rink or downtown: "Just say you're from Hyde Park or Mt. Lookout." 

In spite of the neighborhood's lack of wealth, the part of the East End around McKinley School was quite pleasant, like a small river town. There were shade trees along Eastern and some houses with historic charm. I was chosen to appear on a radio program featuring school children from various neighborhoods, and learned that the East End was originally called Columbia and was the first community in the city to be settled. The riverfront was once the town of Fulton, where steamboats were built. We had a pioneer cemetery near Lunken Airport and historic residence built by Benjamin Stites, an East End founder.

Clustered around the school on Eastern Avenue were a supermarket, a beauty parlor, a clothing store, a bank, a movie theater, a post office, a diner, several bars, a chili parlor and an old-fashioned notions store with pull-down stools. Everything families needed could be found there.

In the days we lived there, people paid little attention to the river, unless it flooded or gave up a dead body or did some other asocial thing. We roller-skated and hung around in the school yard. There were parks in the lower East End, toward town, but we never went to Turkey Ridge or below because the kids there were rumored to be really tough. 

Mom warned us to stay away from tough kids and told me not to let the older boys get me alone anywhere: "They may have desires you younger children don't know about." True, there were a couple of boys in the school who shaved or had chins black with stubble, but they could be avoided. We ran pretty free in our nearby streets, never worrying about bad areas or hoodlums. We went to the movies, Jim and I, at night, along with some kids who lived right next door to the coal yard near the tracks.

Back down on the river, I practiced kicking the kickball in the field above the marina. More than anything, I wanted to be a good player, but I was never more than a bunter. Occasionally, I wandered over to the woods where the shanty boaters lived. Nettie and Annie went to McKinley, and their brother "Pig Iron" was receiving his education in the shacks. Their boat, an old scow with no motor, was moored among the willows. Their bathroom was a seat over the water and a bar of soap on the rope.  The family grew their own vegetables on the small bit of land where they moored, and they kept chickens. Clarence, the father, fished for their dinner and made his own "raisin jack." He and the other shanty boaters "rolled coal" for their stoves from barges that were tied off across the water. The minute a tow boat left a barge full of coal on the ice breakers -- to be picked up later -- and puffed out of sight, an armada of small boats surrounded it. Clarence, along with his cohorts, was out in his skiff filling it with chunks of coal. He would come back from a raid so weighed down, the oarlocks of his boat were at water level.

Mom though shanty-boaters interesting and colorful and encouraged me to make friends with them. But when Daddy got wind of my visiting them, he forbade me to go back. To a steamboat man, the shanty boaters were thieves, riff-raff, no-account.

As usual, I depended on company from Jim, who was willing to let me tag along with him until more interesting male companions came along. Mom needed my services to help cook. Chopping cabbage for coleslaw, our usual salad, and frying pork chops were chores I enjoyed. I hated trying to make "oleo margarine" look palatable, like butter. We squeezed a tiny glob of red dye into a pound of white lardy stuff and kneaded it in. We did everything to the accompaniment of the radio, our one link besides school with the world beyond the river. We sang along with the endlessly played soap ads: "Rinso white, Rinso bright / Birdies sing all day long." We would never forget the slogans: "Ipana for the smile of beauty, Sal Hepatica for the smile of health."

Soap operas played constantly: "Backstage Wife," "Lorenzo Jones," "Just Plain Bill," "Life Can be Beautiful."   I believed in the last one, utterly.

Dorothy Weil, Author

Note: I would love to read your comments, as I am sure Dorothy would, too.

                                                                  Kathy

Stowing Away on the Delta Queen!

Delta and Mississippi Queens moored upriver during Tall Stacks

It's the Friday before Derby Day, and I can't help but be transported back to my life 32 years ago.  Picture a newly-divorced, single parent of 22-month-old little girl.  I was still trying to cautiously navigate the waters of my new phase in life.

My family had a love of the Delta Queen.  After all, it was a historic steamboat whose home port was Cincinnati (at that time).  My youngest brother, Don, worked on the Delta Queen after high school and before college.  He became friends with the Cruise Director, Terry Sevrens. Thus began a long friendship between Terry and our whole family.

Mom (in center waving) and Terry (far right) depart on a Derby Cruise

Terry introduces the calliope player.

Mom and Terry

My mother was widowed and making her way in uncharted territory, too.  She had always loved Derby Day (usually throwing a party to celebrate the blooming azaleas, mint juleps, and, of course, a horse race). This particular year, she decided to indulge herself and book a four-day round trip on the Delta Queen to coincide with the Kentucky Derby.  Terry, who had more than a passing interest in my mother, was sure to provide her with a good time.

Don and Liz on a separate trip

We all went down to the river to see my Mom off on her great adventure.  Just as we were about to leave, Terry asked who was going to "stow away" and use the top bunk in my Mom's cabin. After acknowledging that this was a totally crazy idea, it was decided that I would be the stowaway.  My toddler daughter was handed over to my brother, Don, who agreed to watch her and drive down to Louisville the next day and pick me up. I don't know what we were thinking, as there was no preparation, no diapers, no change of clothes for my daughter, and Terry could jeopardize his job if I got caught.

I WAS IN!!  I can't tell you everything that happened in one post, but I can tell you it was one of the most risk-taking adventures of my life, and one I cherish.

The Delta Queen in 2012


So today is the anniversary of that great adventure.  The Delta Queen is no longer plying the rivers between Cincinnati and New Orleans.  It is docked "permanently" in Memphis, Tennessee. Due to the wooden construction of its superstructure, Congress would not extend its waiver to continue operating as an overnight passenger steamboat. Thus ended an era.

American Queen docked near Showboat Majestic
Port of Cincinnati

I made my way to the riverfront to take in the newly-refurbished American Queen. The boat made its way to Cincinnati last night, following up a steamboat race with the Belle of Louisville and the Belle of Cincinnati. The Belle of Louisville "won."

Port of Cincinnati, Ohio
May 4, 2012

I'll be thinking of Mom, Terry, the Delta Queen and the Derby all weekend. Now all I need is a mint julep.

Just My Luck!

I have a new-found friend, Bryan Phillips, who has a facebook page on Cincinnati's East End, Columbia-Tusculum and Linwood. If you have an interest in this old Cincinnati neighborhood, his site is a gold mine.  Since meeting him I've been able to have a few lunches with other "old" East Enders who have helped me get a better understanding of the neighborhood that defined four generations of my family.

People from the neighborhood are constantly sending Bryan pictures and information for his page.  Bryan knows I have a wish list:

• Locating a picture of my great-grandfather's house on Gladstone.
• Any pictures on Eastern Avenue (Riverside Drive) from the 2200-2500 block.
• Pictures of the old homes on the street that now is Columbia Parkway.
• A picture of the house on the riverbank behind St. Rose Church.

Today he struck gold!  A follower of his page, Gary Sunday, made five more 1937 flood pictures available for the site. A short time later, I got a phone call from Bryan. He knew this picture would get me going.

1937 Flood - Pictured is Highland School
My grandparent's home is to the far right with the chimney in view.
Photo Credit:  Gary Sunday and Bryan Phillips

When I first saw the picture, I thought the house was the building just behind the telephone pole.  My brother, however, recognized an unmistakable pattern in the brick work of the chimney. I still remember being shown the "line" about four inches below the ceiling that marked the crest of the flood.  Paint could never completely cover it. Other pictures that we've seen of the flood show water levels that are not nearly as high.

Gary had some other priceless pictures in his collection.

St. Rose Church and School
My Joneses lived on the river bank BEHIND this church in the 1870s.

At the  height of the flood, the city was no longer able to pump water to the residents.
This building is now surrounded by an unattractive wall 3' higher than the high water level of the '37 flood.

From Torrence Rd. looking west on Eastern Ave.

Looking west with St. Rose steeple on the far left.  All of the houses no longer exist.

There are a few more pictures on my "wish list". Why do I feel so hopeful?  It takes a community.
Thanks Bryan and Gary.

Dad and the River

Dad and his canoe

It's hard to believe, but my Dad, John Thomas Jones, died 34 years ago.  He was only 57 years old.  So I write this at such a disadvantage.

Ramp from behind school to river

We know Dad LOVED the river.  After all, from the time he was nine years old, he lived in a house directly across the street from the river.  It was in full view.  The property for his school, Highlands Elementary, backed up all of the way to the bank of the river. In fact, a couple of decades ago his former school housed an "Inland Waterways" vocational program for high school students who learned the skills necessary to work on the river on barges, tows, etc.  They trained on a barge called the Marilyn McFarland that was moored just behind the school. Every graduate had a job waiting.

Tow and barge from behind St. Rose Church with northern Kentucky in the background

It's hard to imagine the river he knew as a child.  The river is so different today. One of the main differences is that the river pool stage is double what it was then.  During the summer, the river often became too shallow to support navigation.  I remember Dad taking us down to look at a "wicket dam" just before it was to be removed.  (I checked -- the last wicket dam was removed in 1963.  I was in the 8th Grade). Two new dams were opened, Meldahl and Markland, effectively creating a 95 mile navigational reservoir with a much deeper pool stage.

I also remember that Dad was completely intrigued with the river when it flooded.  I still remember being terrified when we drove down to the river's edge to check out a flood.  I was absolutely convinced that the emergency brake on the car would not hold and that we were going to be swept away in the rushing water.

When Dad was a boy, the river was his playground.  He used to talk about taking his canoe out into the river and riding the "rollers" churned up by the passing steamboats and tugboats.  Based on the previous post, I can just imagine that he was afforded a lot of opportunity to do this because of the multiple trips made back and forth to Coney Island each day during the summer.

Dad's canoe was a casualty of becoming a "family man."  When he and Mom were married, he sold his canoe in order to enable her to buy a sewing machine.  Despite his new priorities, his love for the river was not diminished -- just postponed.

The Island Queen and Coney Island

If you were a "Baby Boomer" in Cincinnati and white (I was shocked to find out that African-Americans were kept from the park until the '60s) you went to Coney Island.  It was THE amusement park in this area.  It was located on the banks of the Ohio River, had a nice picnic grove, amusement rides, a man-made lake, and a HUGE swimming pool.  It was the place to go, and our family went once every summer with our Ryan cousins.  Little did I know that not only our parents, but also our grandparents, probably participated in this tradition.

My uncle, Tony Scardina, is pictured eating watermelon in the picnic grove area of Coney Island.
  He later married Margaret Ann Jones, my Dad's sister.
Photo Credit:  East End, Columbia-Tusculum, Linwood Facebook page

Coney Island has an interesting history.  You can read about it by clicking on this link. There were a few facts that really surprised me.  Get it's earliest start as a picnic area in 1886, the land had been purchased by two steamboat captains.  As part of their business model, guests were transported to the park by steamboat.  As the park continued to make a variety of improvements, the first Island Queen steamboat was built at a cost of $80,000 and began transporting passengers in 1896.  The boat could transport 3000 passengers at a time. Unfortunately, the original Island Queen was destroyed by fire moored in Cincinnati when fire spread from another steamboat moored along side her.

Two other steamboats were temporarily placed in service while a new Island Queen was built. This boat, built at a cost of between $300,000 and $400,000.  It was christened in 1925 and served until 1947.  It was on this boat that my parents met. From the picture below, you can see how often the boat was scheduled to make the trip a few miles upriver.

Photo Credit:  Don Prout/ConeyIslandCentral.com
Permission to share on blog requested.

From the Collection of the Public Library of Cincinnati and Hamilton County
Note the "lighthouse" at the entrance near the top of the ramp.

This second Island Queen has a place in the memory of almost every resident of Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky between 1925 -1947. Unfortunately, like the first Island Queen, this steamboat also burned.  According to the website coneyislandcentral.com, the fire started when a welder's torch was lit near the oil storage tanks.

The Island Queen burning in 1947 in Pittsburgh.
From the Collection of the Public Library of Cincinnati and Hamilton County.

A piece of Cincinnati history, and the personal history of my parents, was lost forever in that fire. Little did they know at the time the role another steamboat, the Delta Queen would play in our Jones family history.

Sources:  
Public Library of Cincinnati and Hamilton County Wiki: https://wiki.cincinnatilibrary.org/index.php/Island_Queen
Coney Island Central:  http://coneyislandcentral.com
White, John H., 1933-. The Island Queen : Cincinnati's excursion steamer / John H. White and Robert J. White. 1st ed. Akron, Ohio : University of Akron Press, 1995.

How Mom and Dad Met

Virginia Ryan and Johnny Jones courting

Setting the Scene: World War II has ended, the "boys" are home, and there is a pent-up demand for finding a husband and starting a family.  My mother used to say that during her prime dating years, the only guys available were married or classified IV-F (men deemed physically, mentally or morally unfit to serve).

So how to find a husband -- Being a "good, Catholic girl" it seemed logical to try to meet men at the Newman Center.  The Newman Center was designed to serve the needs of Catholic students attending non-Catholic Universities. The University of Cincinnati had a vibrant chapter headed by Bob Kroner. Coincidentally, Bob grew up in the East End and was a friend of my father.

One of the popular activities of the time was to take a riverboat ride to Coney Island on the Island Queen.  The boat had a great ballroom and it only cost 25 cents to ride from Cincinnati to Coney, a few miles upriver.

Credit: The Island Queen, Cincinnati's Excursion Steamer, by John and Robert White

The U.C. Newman Club decided to sponsor a dance on the Island Queen. Bob Kroner was President of the Newman Club. He and Dad were great friends and neighbors and Dad tagged along with Bob on a regular basis. Never mind that Dad was neither a U.C. student nor Catholic. Given my family history, it seems only appropriate that my parents would meet on a boat, on the Ohio River, that literally passed by the Jones home on its way upriver to Coney.  Perfect!!!

Well, they must have made an impression on each other because within a couple of years they were married and well on their way to becoming parents of what would become a very large family. Serendipitous? Fate? You tell me.