Roots of an Ohio "River Rat"

Background

A year ago, I was contacted by Sunny Morton, the editor of the Ohio Genealogy News, published quarterly. She had come upon this blog and suggested that I might want to summarize some of the themes into an article for publication. I took her up on the challenge,

The Winter 2018 issue contains the article. In it I attempted to summarize our Jones Family History along the Ohio River from Alexander and Elizabeth's earliest arrival in Cincinnati to the latest generation's ownership of the Rivertowne Marina a few miles upstream. 

I hope you enjoy it.

Roots of an Ohio “River Rat”

My father was a “river rat” – an attribution he claimed with pride.[i] He was determined to share this accolade with his seven children. He grew up at 2424 Eastern Ave, (now Riverside Drive) in a successful marketing strategy to redefine this lower, middle-class community into a condo-dominated neighborhood of desirable riverfront properties. The neighborhood was, and is, called the East End.

His home was a small frame house located just across the street from the banks of the Ohio River. The view was partially blocked by Highlands School, a Cincinnati Public School that he attended in Grades    1-6. My grandfather, “Fred”, could often be found sitting next to his large dining room window, chewing tobacco as he watched the river traffic.

I knew my Dad loved the river as he shared pictures of his youth riding the “rollers” created by steamboats that plied the river. He reluctantly sold his canoe to buy a sewing machine for my mother after they married.

                                      Johnny Jones in his canoe on the Ohio River

As children, we were subjected to drives down to the river every time the river exceeded its banks. I was always terrified that the car brakes wouldn’t hold and we would get caught up in the river current. I remember a trip down to see the last operating “wicket dam”[i] on the Ohio in 1963 shortly before it was removed to create a 95-mile navigable pool between the Markland[ii] and Meldahl[iii] locks and dams, greatly increasing both the depth and the width of the river.

I had grown up with stories of the river being so dry and shallow in the summer that my grandfather was able to walk across it. On the other hand, several Cincinnatians ignored pleas by the authorities to stay off the ice during the winter of 1977.[iv] They were able to walk across the now wider and deeper river from Ohio to Kentucky. My well-bred mother had insisted that “no child of hers was ever going to swim in that river.” But that promise was broken when my father was able to invest in a small pleasure boat and water skiing became an essential summer activity on the river we had all grown to love.

A River Runs Through Us – My Family’s History Along the River

In the winter of 2000, I found myself laid up with a hip replacement. My husband suggested that I take the opportunity to organize a folder containing information on my family’s history that had been left to me. Before long, I had the genealogy “bug.”

Tracing my family back, the earliest Jones ancestor came to Cincinnati in the early 1840s to work as a carpenter in the thriving steamboat industry. Alexander was first listed in the City Directory in 1843.  His occupation was listed as "carpenter," and he was living on Race between 14th and 15th Streets.[v]  By 1856, the family had relocated to 592 E. Front Street[vi] (later known as Eastern Ave. and now as Riverside). This was a time when one of the main occupations in Cincinnati was boatbuilding – in particular, steamboats. Alexander was drawn to this city where his skills as a carpenter were in great demand. He and Elizabeth had six children.

Alexander Jones and Elizabeth Kinley

Alexander died in 1863, allegedly from “inflammation of the bowels."[i] Given the reality of the times with drinking water often taken directly from the Ohio River, this really should come as no surprise. Cholera was an all too commonplace illness of the time. Elizabeth was widowed at the age of 40.

By 1868, Elizabeth and her children are living on the banks of the Ohio River.[ii] The small frame house was on a lot just to the right of St. Rose Church, which was to play a significant role in the life of my family.

Second Generation

Charles Henry Jones

Rachel Wainright

My great-grandfather, Charles Henry Jones, married and moved less than a mile away to a street with a great river view, Gladstone. He and his wife, Rachel Wainright, shared a two-family home with her mother, Mary Elizabeth. Her mother played a pivotal role in the upbringing of the three children as Rachel was ill and died at the age of 41 of “consumption.” The William Wainright family had moved to Cincinnati from New Jersey following the Revolutionary War. They lived on the river on Front Street. Their son and my gg-grandfather, Britton, husband of Mary Elizabeth, ran a blacksmith shop with his brother on Front Street. Britton moved his family to New Albany, Indiana, only to die of heat stroke while marching to confront John Hunt Morgan of Morgan’s Raiders.[i] Mary Elizabeth made the decision to return to Cincinnati to be near family.


Third Generation

My grandfather, Charles “Fred” Jones, lived with his wife Norine and their five children on Columbia Ave. They rented space from his Uncle Tom and Aunt Ella. Due to eminent domain, the house was sold to make way for the construction of Columbia Parkway, one of the main arteries to the east side of Cincinnati. It is known for its spectacular views of the Ohio River. This led to the purchase of their home in 1929 at 2424 Eastern Avenue just across the street from the river. The timing of the move coincided with the crash of the stock market. My grandfather, who worked as a supervisor for the street car company, proudly never missed a payment. This was the home where my father, John T. Jones, grew up.

Fred and Norine Jones and children Edith, Charley,Bob and Johnny (oldest to youngest).

The baby, Margaret Ann, was born in 1928, eight years after my Dad, Johnny, was born in 1920.

The 1937 Flood

If you are a Cincinnatian, you are aware of the 1937 flood. My father was seventeen when this flood destroyed much of Cincinnati, even shutting down the Water Works Pumping Station. The flood crested at 80 feet, Normal pool stage in Cincinnati today is 26 feet. The river crested just short of the second-floor attic of my Dad’s house.

When I finished tracing my Cincinnati Joneses and Wainrights, it became abundantly clear that the river had played a central role in the life of my family since my gg-grandfather, Britton was born here in 1819. Each move took the family further east along the river. In fact, I realized that four generations had lived within about a one-square mile area of St. Rose Church.

Yellow pins represent four locations of Jones residences. Click to enlarge.

The Fourth Generation

The five children of Fred and Norine were: Edith, Charles (Bud), Bob, Johnny and Margaret Ann. They grew up at 2424 Eastern and spent their whole young adulthoods in the East End. Margaret Ann even married another East Ender, Anthony Scardina.

From left to right, youngest to oldest -- Margaret Ann, Johnny, Bob, "Bud" and Edith

Together, they had 19 grandchildren. Most still live in the Cincinnati area. In the summer of 2016, we held a cousins reunion.

From left to right: Top row - Tom, Fred, Ted, Don, Bob, and Tony
Middle Row: Peggy, Patty, Sue, Jeanne, Karen, Kath, Dan and Tim
Bottom Row: Fred, Gina, Rose

The Fifth Generation

I am the oldest of seven children born to John and Virginia Jones. We are all, connected in some way to the river. All of us have owned boats, mostly used on the river. My mother, who once stated that "no child of hers would ever swim in that river," had to eat those words as boating, water skiing and jet skiing became larger and larger components of any Jones summer.

John and Virginia Jones with children moving clockwise in the picture:
Don, Dan, Ted, Karen, Kath, Tom and Tim (Don is in the red sweater).

A few years ago, my youngest brother, Don Jones, made a significant contribution to our family’s river history. HE BOUGHT A MARINA![i] Only three miles upriver from where my Dad grew up, the tradition continues. Another brother, Ted, works with Don on projects designed to make this marina a boater’s paradise on the Ohio. By July 2019, the marina will include a new project, Tucker’s Landing, where recreational RVs will be able to find a home along the banks of the river.

The Sixth and Seventh Generations

My siblings and I now have children who have children. They are being "trained up" in the ways of boating and the joys of the Ohio River. I hope our legacy as "River Rats" continues for several generations.

Bill, Kath Tom, Linda, Tim. Karen, Ted, Dan, Captain Don

Labor Day fireworks on the river

---

[i] According to the Urban Dictionary a “river rat” is defined as “a community of people that live along a river. Known as tight knit community that always sticks together and looks out for its children. Also, spend a lot of leisure time along the river, fishing, boating, etc. People that live along a river are proud to be called "river rats!" www.urbandictionary.com

[ii] Article on “wicket dams” http://www.steamboats.org/history-education/glossary/wicket_dam.html

[iii] Markland Dam https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Markland_Locks_and_Dam

[iv] Meldahl Dam https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Markland_Locks_and_Dam

[v] “River Hike Old Stuff to Dad As He, Sons Tredge Icy Ohio”  Cincinnati Enquirer, 21 Jan 1977, Fri, Page 25.

[vi] Cincinnati City Directory for Year 1843, p. 184.

http://digital.cincinnatilibrary.org/digital/collection/p16998coll5/id/208277/rec/9

[vii] Williams City Directory, 1856 p. 143.

http://digital.cincinnatilibrary.org/digital/collection/p16998coll5/id/35256

[viii] Letter to Edith Jones from her cousin, Lillian Mears, chronicling Jones family history.

[ix] Cincinnati City Directory, 1868

[x] Britton Wainright – Parts I and II, https://jonesfamilymatters.blogspot.com/2009/05/britton-wainright-part-i.html

and https://jonesfamilymatters.blogspot.com/2009/06/britton-wainright-part-ii.html

[xi] Rivertowne Marina http://www.rivertownemarina.com/

For additional fun:

The 1937 Flood was an extreme weather event affecting many communities along the Ohio River. Included are links to pictures of its impact on the East End Community of Cincinnati.

https://ohioriverways.blogspot.com/2015/03/the-1937-flood-revisited.html

https://ohioriverways.blogspot.com/2012/02/great-ohio-river-flood-of-1937.html

A local Cincinnati photographer, Tim Jeffries, has unintentionally made a landmark of the “little red bench” located on the river bank behind St. Rose Church. As my ancestors lived on a lot just east of the bench, it is a place of special meaning for me. Links to related posts.

https://ohioriverways.blogspot.com/2015/03/the-little-red-bench.html

https://ohioriverways.blogspot.com/2011/11/living-on-ohio.html

You can read additional details about my “river rat” ancestors in my blogs, “A River Runs Through Us” and “Family Matters”  http://ohioriverways.blogspot.com and http://jonesfamilymatters.blogspot.com

Blue Room Belch - During World War II, patrons of Pharo's Cafe in the East End compiled stories of local interest into a newspaper that they published and distributed to service men and women from the neighborhood. The newspaper and the articles were loaned to me by Mary Pharo Meldon, deceased, who allowed me to transcribe them and publish them in a blog. A copy of the resulting book is online at Blue Room Belch. An actual copy of the book is in the Rare Books Department of the Cincinnati and Hamilton County Public Library.

The 1937 Flood Revisited

A few years ago, I wrote about the impact of the 1937 flood on my Dad and his family who were living at 2424 Eastern Ave. (now Riverside Drive). It included family pictures that had been passed down to us. Three years later, I acquired additional pictures from the Cincinnati History and Archives Library at the Museum Center. They are in possession of a scrapbook of flood pictures that were collected from a variety of individual collections. One of the pictures was one I recognized from the collection of Mary Pharo Meldon, who loaned it to me for inclusion in the Blue Room Belch.

The search led to additional pictures that featured my Dad's house. John Thomas Jones was 16-years old at the time of the flood. I remember him telling stories about the house being accessible only through an attic window by boat.

This is my Dad's house on the left. We do not know the identities of the men in the boat.

From this view, you can see that the water level got up just below the attic. The house is still standing in 2015. 

This view is from the railroad tracks above the house. I have no idea why there is a car on the tracks.
Dad's house is the small one on the left. Note all of the furniture stacked next to the tracks.

Finally, Mary Pharo Meldon's collection included this great picture of people from the East End trying to acquire drinking water after the Cincinnati Water Works pumping equipment failed.

From the Collection of Mary Pharo Meldon

March 2015 Flooding

St. Rose Church from the air 3-16-2015
Photo Credit: Tim Jeffries

Over the years, I've taken numerous pictures of St. Rose Church -- but never from this view. Once again, photographer Tim Jeffries outdid himself when he captured this picture of the recent flood. If I recall correctly, this year's flood crested at 58.6 feet. Flood stage is 52' so it was just enough to flood the parking lot of St. Rose Church. Note that the "little red benches" featured in the previous post were completely submerged.

In talking with Tim, I asked him if he had any pictures of the flooding of Rivertowne Marina. He shared this one with me.

Rivertowne Marina

Photo Credit: Tim Jeffries

As you can see, the buildings and the boats stored in the surrounding lot are high and dry. Just to add a few pictures of my own, Bill and I went down and captured the Jennie Wade, normally undergoing restoration in the parking lot, surrounded by water and some of the local ducks.

Jennie Wade 3-8-15

Finally, here is a picture of my husband, Bill Reed, sitting on the "little red bench" the week before it would be completely submerged in the rising flood waters. I think we are all ready for spring.

The Little Red Bench

The Little Red Bench
2-20-2015
Used with the permission  of Tim Jeffries, Photographer

I'll admit it -- I spend way too much time on facebook. One recent discovery seems to have justified the time. Photographer, Tim Jeffries, posted a picture of a red bench behind St. Rose Church on the banks of the Ohio River. I responded to Tim that this was a special place in the hearts of all Jones descendants as Elizabeth Kinley Jones and family lived on the river bank in a small frame house in 1870. I wrote about this in detail in 2011. I jokingly told Tim that our family would probably love to have a four-season set of pictures from this spot. Since then, Tim has posted numerous pics from this spot.

For those of you who are not aware, a Sandborn Fire Map pictures the exact location of the little frame house sitting on the river bank on land that is now occupied by the city-owned water works.

The frame building is described as being 250' from the corner of St. Rose Church. My brother, Tim, his wife, Dusty, and I went with tape measure in hand and tried to determine the exact location. You can read about our efforts here.

So the bench, for me, has become a symbol. It is a symbol of the Jones family connection to the river and to St. Rose. And due to numerous facebook posts during the past few weeks, I know it is symbolic for many Joneses, Scardinas, Brevings and Kramers. So think of our family when you visit the bench. Hopefully, the next pictures will have a lot more green.

Note: I encourage you to check out some of Tim Jeffries photos of Cincinnati. I recently purchased a beautiful picture of the Over-the-Rhine area printed on canvas.

Back to the River

It's been more than a year since I posted about our Jones/Wainright family connection to the Ohio River. During much of 2014, I tried to compile information documenting our relationship to Vincent Wainwright, our 4X great-grandfather and Revolutionary War patriot. He had served as a "Minute Man." You can read more about him here. Qualifying for the Daughters of the American Revolution requires "rock solid" research that tested every one of my skills. I am proud to say that I was successful. The process led me to uncover Cincinnati deeds for property owned by our Wainrights along the river, in the area that is now the Theodore M. Berry International Friendship Park.

Theodore M. Berry International Friendship Park
www.cincinnatiparks.com

In fact, as we will discover, William Wainright (and his wife, Ruth), were forced to sell their property along the river due to eminent domain. The land was taken in order to build the Little Miami Railroad, pictured along the left side of the picture.

So let's explore together our early Cincinnati roots along the banks of the beautiful Ohio River. A river truly does run through us.

Don Adds a Chapter to Our Family History on the Ohio

Captain Don helps lock the Jennie Wade through the Meldahl Dam lock on her way to Cincinnati.

I know it's been a good six months since I've added anything to this blog. I always seem to want to add things in chronological order, but my brother, Don Jones, gave me a good reason to go "out of order."

On April 1, 2013, Don ended his term as "President" of Champion Window, a company he had worked for and developed for twenty years. The company was purchased from the original owners by a group of out-of-state investors. The writing was pretty much on the wall. But not for Don ...

Don was able to become the owner of the Rivertowne Marina on Kellogg Avenue. This is the "right" move on so many levels. Don has always had a love of the river, working on the Delta Queen just out of high school, and purchasing increasingly larger boats over time. His current boat, the Fleur de Lis, was docked at Four Seasons Marina and provided the larger Jones family with countless memories, especially of trips to view the fireworks on Labor Day.

This second career has enabled Don to combine a love of the river with his business skills. He immediately made changes to the marina, cutting down overgrown weeds, identifying abandoned boats for removal, etc. But that's not enough for Don.

Rivertowne Marina actually includes 42 acres (including water) and has a lot of empty space that could be developed. Long-time customers were thrilled to discover that the new owner actually has a Captain's license and a love of boating at all levels -- well, maybe sailboats are an exception.

He has so much vision. He recently made the decision to purchase the Jennie Wade, a 54' sternwheeler with an interesting history. Lacking an engine, the boat was pushed down the river by a towboat yesterday to make its new home at Rivertowne Marina. Don has an incredible vision for the future of this boat. It may serve as a concession enabling Rivertowne boaters to purchase ice, soft drinks and snacks without having to leave the facility. It will also add quite a bit of ambiance to a somewhat sterile environment. He has many other ideas, but I would be remiss to reveal them at this time.

I think all of the Joneses couldn't help but believe that Dad looked down on us with approval as we moved the Jennie Wade from Chilo to Cincinnati in beautiful weather. The marina is not very far from the East End location where four generations of Joneses lived and worked as far back as 1840 in Cincinnati. I feel like we have come full circle and that all of us are rejoicing in Don's newest project. If you want to know more, "like" the Rivertowne Marina facebook page and follow a new blog on the Jennie Wade located at Jennie Wade Sternwheeler.

Welcome aboard!

A Proud Man - Charles Fred Jones aka "Butch"

I've written about my grandfather and his pride in his work before. I'm grateful that the Cincinnati Transit Company published a bimonthly news magazine called The News. I thought I had pretty much gleaned what I could from their publication until I found out that the Cincinnati History Library and Archives had some copies I may not have reviewed. A trip to the library uncovered some gems I had not previously discovered. What joy! And so I share them with you -- my fellow Joneses.

It's Done with Ropes

From The News, May-June 1946, p. 17.

The News was a bi-monthly publication of the Cincinnati Transit Company, aka "the bus company." My Dad, John Thomas Jones, worked in the "car barn" where his father was the foreman. This picture was taken one year after Dad served in England during World War II. Eventually he would become a mechanic, and later, an electrician. The picture in the magazine had more detail that the one I was able to reproduce, but you get the idea. I love it when someone comes up with a simple solution to a problem they face -- as this one was. Dad would have been 25 at the time of this picture.

An Unexpected Find Thanks to Google Books

In the evening when I am half-watching TV, I often search for the names of family members on google books. (Have I ever mentioned how much I LOVE google books)? Last night I was searching on my grandfather, Charles F. Jones. Up came a reference to The News published by the Cincinnati Transit Company where both my grandfather and father were employed. Thanks to our wonderful Public Library of Cincinnati and Hamilton Co., I was able to "Ask A Librarian" to find this article on microfilm and email me a digital image free! So here is today's piece of gold.

In truth, The News labeled the picture incorrectly. From left to right it should read Pfc. Charles F. Jones, Jr., Sgt. Robt. L. Jones, and Cpl. John T. Jones.The article refers to two of the sons meeting in England, and I have a picture of that. It also references a separate article in The News and a picture in the Enquirer -- so I guess I have more hunting to do.

John and Bob in England

Update: Here is the same picture as it appeared in The News, periodical published by the Cincinnati Street Railway, July/Aug.1945, p.7.

Dad's House in the 1937 Flood

2424 Eastern Ave. (now Riverside) from the 1937 Flood

Yesterday, Bryan Phillips, owner of the East End facebook page, texted me that there was a video on you tube that had a picture of my Dad's house 2 minutes and 30 seconds in.  I couldn't wait to check it out.




Brian Gordon posted this video on facebook in April, 2010. Here is how he described it.

I contacted Brian Gordon for permission to embed the video and a "snip" of Dad's house on this blog. He graciously agreed. Although we have a picture of Dad's house in the flood, I don't think it does justice to just how bad the flood was for the Jones family. I'm also grateful for Brian Gordon's description of everything on this video.

I guess it gives a whole new meaning to "A River Runs Through Us."

It's the End of an Era

Today marks the demise of one of the most prominent landmarks in the East End -- Highland School. This school has gone through many changes during the past 15 years or so.  After no longer being used as an elementary school, the school became home to one program after another including an Inland Waterways Program, a Montessori School and later the East End Heritage School. My Dad lived directly across the street from the school and attended it during his elementary years.

Despite several attempts to repurpose the building, none of these efforts came to pass.  Located in the flood plain of the Ohio River, it was difficult to obtain financing. I'm told there were restrictions about how big the footprint of the building could be and deed restrictions from a large underground pipe behind the building.  Empty and abandoned for several years, the last coup de gras (deathblow) came from vandals who removed gutters and downspouts allowing the building to be overtaken with mold. It only took a little over a week. Pictured is the transition . . .

The Beginning of the End
Photo Credit:  Bryan Phillips

Earlier Today (8-30-2012)

Photo Credit:  Bryan Phillips

Later Today

I spoke to the man from O'Rourke, and he told me that it will be another month before everything is cleared away.  They are recycling rebar, concrete, and everything that can be salvaged. If you look carefully at the picture in the bottom right, you can see the roof-line of my Dad's former home. I can't help but wonder if it will be next.

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.