Isn't It a Wonder - Great Friends & Great Music

The Ceilidh Group presented two concerts today for the Isn't It a Wonder CD project. We started at 11:00 a.m. at Joseph Beth Booksellers with Dave Hawkins, Roberta Schultz, Tim Kelly and myself. The kids were great and we had a fun time.

Then all but Roberta, who had to run off to the studio to make beautiful music with Raison D'Etre, drove to Mt. Airy Forest to join Joel Caithamer, Joanie Whittaker and Papa Joe on the children's stage.

I borrowed a hat from Johnny Schott, who had booked us, and so I could pose as a concert promoter.

The kids had a lot of fun but I think we adults had the most fun.

The Isn't It a Wonder is a CD that we compiled last year with 20 artists doing 24 songs total with all proceeds going to charity. Check us out at http://www.ceilidhgroup.org/

Dyan Jenkins - Fearless Friend

It’s been 20 years since I received a phone call from a man who introduced himself as the fiancé of my friend, Dyan Jenkins. He was calling to tell me that Dyan had been lost at sea. He said she was flying to the Turks and Caicos Islands when she ran out of fuel. She sent out a “mayday” which was intercepted by an Eastern airlines pilot who head her last words, “It’s quitting”.

Dyan was an amazing pilot and the most adventurous soul I ever knew. She became an instant friend when I moved from the city of Newport to live with my aunt and uncle in Cold Spring. My parents were on a towboat at this time and I still had two years of high school to complete. She and I felt like fish out of water at Campbell County High School. She had spent two, tumultuous years at a local girl’s catholic school and was finally sent to public. Campbell County had a massive student body, unlike the smaller schools we had both attended. I didn’t fit in at Campbell County and always seemed to be in trouble that I didn’t start or at least didn’t mean to start. Dyan searched me out when it became obvious that I was not going to fit in and that the principle, Mr. Ravenscraft, had marked me as a “bad” kid from Newport who needed to be monitored. It started innocently when I worn my “groovy” new, wire-rimmed glasses to school for the first time. We called them “John Denver” glasses back after the folksinger who had made them famous. Mr. Ravenscraft sent me home and told me to come back with normal glasses, not hippy glasses. Thankfully my mother was off the towboat for a few days when this transpired and she was right there telling him that there was nothing wrong with the glasses she had provided and if they didn’t like them, they could buy me new ones. The hint of insurrection and anti-establishment behavior was all Dyan needed to come to my rescue. Dyan was the editor of the underground newspaper at the school and she wanted to interview me for her paper. Back in the late 60’s an underground newspaper was the best and most fun way to get back at the “man”. A few more incidents as innocent as the first transpired and Dyan and I became united against the evil school administration.

Dyan and I did get into legitimate trouble eventually. Because my parents continued to have an apartment in Newport, I would sometimes stay the night when they were in town and then drive to school in my ugly, gray Studebaker. I’d pick Dyan up on the way and we’d share a breakfast of Pop Tarts and Pepsi. Dyan introduced me to a musician friend at the school by the name of Jon. She felt we were meant for each other and the three of us began hanging out together. One day she convinced Jon and me to skip school to go over to the Art Museum for one of the very first laser light shows. As I mentioned, I had an ugly, gray Studebaker and sneaking out of the parking lot just as the bell was ringing wasn’t our best move. The truant officer followed us through the City of Alexandria and reported us to Mr. Ravenscraft. The next morning the three of us were in his office and I was given my very first detention.

Our adventures continued and Dyan had the dubious credit of introducing me to my first three husbands. (Those are stories for another day.) I miss Dyan and hope she managed to get to shore and is living another fine adventure. Maybe we'll bump into each other some day.

The following is an article regarding her disappearance.

Island Search Begins for Missing Pilot

From the Cincinnati Post – September 24, 1981

The U.S. Coast Guard began searching uninhabited Little Inagua Island in the Bahamas today in hopes that missing pilot, Dyan Marie Jenkins, formerly of Cold Spring, Ky. Had made it to shore.

Ms. Jenkins’ partially inflated life raft was spotted at 4:15 p.m. Wednesday by a private pilot aiding in the search, and retrieved by a Coast Guard helicopter.

“The raft positively has been identified as coming from her plane,” said Chief Petty Officer Ray Baker of the Miami Coast Guard headquarters. “The raft has to be manually inflated, and that leads us to believe she was able to get out of her plane and work with the raft.”

“The raft was one mile offshore of Little Inagua when found” he said. “She may have decided to swim.”

Little Inagua is northwest of Haiti and 475 miles southeast of Miami. It is eight miles long and covers 30 square miles.

Ms. Jenkins, a charter pilot, and her small, single-engine plane went down at 5:20 pm. Saturday when she ran out of fuel.

She was talking at the time by radio with Jack Geyer, an Eastern Airlines pilot and the last words he heard from her were “It’s quitting.”

Ms. Jenkins, 26, is the daughter of Betty Heinichen of Loveland, and had visited here only two weeks ago.

She moved from Cold Spring to Ft. Lauderdale five years ago and became a professional pilot. She had been in business for herself two years as a charter pilot.

Little Inagua is five miles north of Great Inagua. Covered in a vast reef apron that prevents boats from getting too close, Little Inagua’s 30 square miles are completely uninhabited except for herds of wild donkeys, goats (descendants of stock introduced by the French), and a wide variety of bird life, including a rare species of heron.

The Ribbon - Part Eleven - Locks

June 8, 1988
On June 8th I woke about 5:30 A.M., showered and had breakfast with the crew. I went to the wheelhouse with Captain Price. We were tied up at Lock #53 still waiting our turn. By 8:00 a.m. we were along side and ready to lock through. We entered the chamber at 9:00. Lock #53 is one of the older locks and is still considered temporary. A larger one has been planned for the area ten miles from Moundsville and Locks #52 and #53 will be put out of use. Captain Price explained that the cells were made, sunk then filled with rock. He explained how the boards of the dam were lowered when the water was high so boats could go right over them. These two locks are the only two of this type remaining. We left the chamber about 9:30.

David and the crew were busy painting the level one deck. The gray makes the whole boat look newer and classier. Yesterday he and the first mate, Gary, finished up the smoke stacks. David was respected by his peers and by his crew because there was never a job on the boat that he would ask any one to do that he would not do himself. He had started like they all had as a deckhand and worked his way up to pilot. David had been one of the youngest pilots on the Ohio River and by his eighteen birthday had earned the rank of Master Pilot.


Entering the lock

After we locked through 53, we headed for Lock #52 where we were to pick up a barge or two in Paducah. We passed Metropolis by water a little after 1:00 p.m. We had passed there on land the day before looking for the boat. Metropolis has a billboard of Superman as you go through town! Past it at Fort Massac there is a reproduction of the original fort and settlement. Metropolis is not only the County Seat of Massac County, but on June 9, 1972 the Illinois State Legislature passed Resolution 572 which declared Metropolis the "Hometown of Superman”. It hosts an annual Superman festival in June of each year and has a large Superman statue and a small Superman museum. The newspaper could not be named The Daily Planet but is known as The Metropolis Planet.

We slowed down to get in line for Lock #52. We were waiting near the I-20 Bridge for southbound boats to clear the chambers. We could see the dam in the distance and it was bigger than #53. We again sat and waited and didn't lock through until 5:00 p.m. The wind was very heavy and going into the chamber was very slow. We entered the chamber at 6:00 p.m. and didn't exit until 7:00 p.m. While we were in the lock, a representative for the radar company came aboard and fixed the starboard radar. Just like anyone else working with towboats, getting on and off is the hardest part. He, however, was able to fix the radar and get back to shore before we headed away.
At Paducah a tug brought us two more barges before we received orders for quite a few more. We ended up pushing twenty-three barges which makes a long and wide load. A normal load is fifteen barges.

It rained for about an hour outside of Paducah and we pulled up to Smithtown Lock at about 11:30 p.m. Smithtown was a larger lock, more like the locks I remember going through when I was younger. It is a double chamber and we entered the starboard chamber. Both chambers are 1,200 feet long and Smithtown is in the Guinness Book of World Records for being the longest in the United States. On the lower end the wall was as high as our roof. The lock lifts a boat from 10 feet to 34 feet. This tow fit right into the chamber with only inches on either side, much like a foot into a shoe.

The Ribbon - Part Ten - The Galley

June 7th, 1988

My first dinner on board was top rate. The cook made pork chops, stuffing, gravy and apple pie. The only thing more wonderful than the people you meet on the river are meals cooked by the best chefs around. My father and brother, both captains for many years, both believed that cooks were an integral part of the crew and they provided a calming presence, especially the ladies. Often the deckhands would sit in the galley sharing a cup of coffee and conversation either on a break or waiting to start their shift.

On this particular trip the cook was a man who had been a cook in the military for many years. He was quick with a witty remark and was a favorite cook on many boats. There was always something sweet to go with the coffee, either pie or cake. Meals on a towboat are large and dessert is served at lunch and dinner.


My Mom was a great towboat cook and was well respected. Most Captains will tell you that the cook has the hardest job on the boat. The mate wakes them at 3 a.m. and breakfast must be cooked and served by 5:30 a.m. so the crew getting ready for the 6 a.m. watch can eat and be at their posts to relieve the crew coming off. The second shift of men will sit down a few minutes after 6:00 a.m. and enjoy their eggs any way they want as well as pancakes, sausage and gravy over homemade biscuits and all the meat they could handle. The coffee pot is always full and the mate will lend a hand when the cook is busy to make sure a fresh pot is brewing.

Lunch is more like a big dinner and is served starting at 11:30. Pie or cake would have been baked between breakfast and lunch and the dishes, pots and pans all scrubbed and put away between meals.

Dinner on a towboat holds with traditions. The meal is served family style with large platters of meat, bowls of vegetables and potatoes. Iced tea is brewed and set out in a large pitcher. Much like a meal at home, the Captain has his place at the head of the table. For dessert there will be left-over delights from the earlier meals plus another pie, cobbler cake or treat baked in the afternoon. After the dinner dishes are cleaned and put away, the cook may sit for a short spell and then be in bed early to be ready for another 3:00 a.m. wake up.

During the day the food was inventoried and grocery lists had to be prepared. Anytime someone from the company was headed for a boat they would check with the cook to see if there was anything they needed to bring. There were also river stores which would take your order over the radio and then bring it out on a small yawl. The crew could also add an item or two to the list and have cigarettes and such delivered with the groceries.

Getta Outta Here Hat - Just Do It

Some folks take long vacations lasting one, two or even three weeks. I can't get away for that long nor would I want to. I enjoy a short trip on a long weekend which I call a "Get Outta Here". It's like taking a cat nap in the middle of the day, just long enough to be refreshing and rejuvenating.

I have discovered that the secret is to:

1. Pick someone to spend time with that has similar interests and likes to have fun. Low maintenance friends or lovers are the best.

2. Pick a spot no more than four or five hours away so driving won't monopolize the trip, unless the drive to your destination is extremely scenic and part of the adventure (i.e, mountains, autumn leaves, river or lake view)

3. Let serendipity help you plan your day. I've learned from past vacations that plans set in stone are the best way to ruin your trip. Be open to what presents itself. You won't believe the great places you find by getting lost or taking a different route.

4. Resove to have a great time and enjoy the unexpected!

Now - Get Outta Here!

Get Outta Here Hat - Chicago 9/20/08

We drove the car to a service station and had the front passenger tire checked. We had been losing air and I was worried that I would have to buy a new tire before we made it back home. Luckily it was just rust on the rim and the mechanic worked on it for almost half an hour and charged me a whooping $9.50. We had breakfast then headed for downtown Chicago. I thought parking might be easier to find on a Saturday (again- ha, ha). Workers may leave the city on the weekends but there were thousands of tourists mixed in with the millions of people who live downtown. We parked at Millenium Park and checked it out before heading into the fray. We started up Michigan Avenue, first stopping at a tour boat ticket office to purchase tickets for an afternoon cruise. We walked a few blocks then went back to Millenium Park.

While we were sitting enjoy a bit of shade, two sailors asked how we were doing. We started up a conversation, learning that they were from Idaho and Georgia and asking about the Navy and what they planned to do. Other folks would stop and say hello to them and thank them for their service. I just wanted to give them a motherly hug but instead we all said we would keep them in our thoughts and prayers.

The boat ride was even nicer than we had hoped. The weather was perfect and the docent givin the tour was very interesting. After the ride we went back to Millenium Park to enjoy it after dark. Through the trees we viewed the fireworks from Navy Pier and took photos of the large, stainless steel structure shaped like a kidney bean.

All in all, the four of us agreed that the trip was spectacular and we enjoyed every minute. One of our mutual favorite parts was walking down Michigan Avenue or standing in the Park and hearing so many different languages. We saw more than five wedding parties and chatted with people from other countries and states.

Nothing beats a GET OUTTA HERE!

My Get Outta Here Hat - Chicago 9/19/08

On Friday morning we stopped for breakfast at "The Corner Bakery" a local restaurant which is similar to the Panera Bread shops in Cincinnati. The food and coffee were both excellent and we recommend them highly. Our next stop was at the largest motorcycle store I had even seen and checked out the bikes that ranged from dirt bikes and scooters to large three-wheeled Gold Wings.

Loading once again into the Tour Bus, as our minivan is so affectionately named, we drove across towards the beach and back down Lake Shore Drive. This route is much more tourist friendly having better signage and a priceless view. We lucked out and found a shady parking spot with no meter just a short distance from the Museum of Science and Industry. Even luckier, we arrived on a free day! The only fee we paid was the extra $5 they charge if you want to tour the German U-Boot on display. We, of course, bought a ticket and were glad we did. The Museum of Science and Industry boasted not only a German U-Boot, captured in WWII but a full size Boeing 727, an outstanding array of trains and planes and a miniature train set that covered more space than my home!

Carol and a new friend - he was plastered !(ha, ha)

We loaded back into the Tour Bus and drove to the Navy Pier to finish out our day. Lenny and Linda rode the Ferris Wheel while Carol and I decided to just watch. (Chickens) We listened to a Cuba folk band at the Beer Garden for a bit and then walked around taking photos of the lake and harbor.

We drove back up Lake Shore Drive towards our hotel looking for a Chicago pizza restaurant that the hotel staff had recommended. We stuffed ourselves with salad and pasta then headed back to the pool and hot tub. Needless to say, we slept well that night!

My Get Outta Here Hat - Chicago 9/18/08

Our quartet of merry travelers met in Harrison, Ohio at 5:00 a.m., Thursday morning, September 18th. Bunny had driven Lenny & Linda and Daryl had brought Carol. We loaded the van, said goodbye to Bunny & Daryl and headed west.

Just after we passed Indianapolis, heading north, we encountered the signs detouring us west instead of north due to high water on Interstate 65. The sun was up, the sky was blue and the scenery through Indiana cornfields were infused with giant windmills! No worries....detours can be fun.

We reached our hotel at the Marriott near O'Hare Airport in late morning and were able to go to our rooms right away. The hotel was beautiful, the rooms comfortable and the staff eager to please. We ate a quick lunch then drove downtown on the expressway (ha, ha) to the Shedd Aquarium. Parking wasn't as smooth as we had hoped but driving around trying to get our bearings proved useful for the remaining days. We soon knew the layout of the parts of Chicago we wanted to visit and were no longer intimidated. The Aquarium was interesting even though the major attraction of dolphins, seals and whales was closed during our visit. We'll just plan to see that next time!

After touring the museum and walking downtown for an hour or so, we drove north on Lake Shore Drive. Just north of Loyola University, we stopped by a beach for about a half hour before returning to our hotel and the warm and wonderful hot tub! Walking so far, especially at our age, definitely earned us that treat.

"We interrupt this message".....

My attempt to do daily blogs has once again been hindered by elements out of my control. On Sunday, September 14th we suffered loss of electric due to high winds on the outside band of Hurricane Ike. Power was off until Wednesday and I left for Chicago on Thursday morning.

We still had water and natural gas so the power outage wasn't too hard on us. We could still bathe and cook and with a substanitial supply of candles we did just fine. It was so quiet in the evening and the full moon lit up the yard. In talking with friends about the blackout we all remarked on how nice it was that neighbors were out visiting and kids were no on electronic gadgets but biking and skateboarding or just hanging out.

One of our trees fell on the next door garage but miraculously no damage was done. Jim helped chop the tree and clean up the mess so all is well.

A few unlucky souls are still without power but we're hoping they, too, have electric soon.

The Ribbon - Part Nine - Aboard the Queen City

June 7, 1988

So there I was on that June day in 1988, back on the river and safely aboard the Queen City. I had stowed my gear in what was made up to be the guest bedroom and the pilot bunked with the first mate. I was given a quick tour and introductions to the crew and then sat in on a pilot's conference, a meeting in which the pilot who is leaving updates the pilot coming aboard. David was taking over as Captain and my other brother was the new Engineer.

Sitting in the wheelhouse having a cup of coffee with the pilot, we passed the MV Belcher which appeared to be run aground just below Mound City. The river was extremely low due to the recent drought and every pilot and crew member was working hard not to have their boats run aground as well. While we were touring the Engineer's room in the lowest part of the vessel we had heard the eerie and foreboding sound of our bottom scraping the sand and knew that this was a reality for any of the boats trying to maneuver during this hot summer.

While David stayed to talk with the current pilot, I wandered about the rest of the boat. When I went out on the deck, the deckhands were painting all the old red on the decks to gray. When there were no tows to change and no locks to go through, the crew stayed busy keeping the boat “ship shape”. A clean and safe boat was their constant duty.

Standing on the upper deck, I looked out on the banks which were low with exposed sand and ground. The predictions are that this part of the river will be closed off if we don't get any rain. The Queen City was sleek and long with plenty of room for the crew and for guests. The main deck housed the common area, the dining room, the galley and the Engineer’s cabin. On some boats the cook is on the same level as the galley, depending upon the boat. The next level up, known as the "Texas deck", normally contains the crew's quarters. Some four-story boats will have the captain’s and pilot’s cabins on one deck higher. Of course my favorite part of the boat will always be the wheelhouse or pilothouse, which sits on average 20 to 30 feet above the water's surface.

Looking toward the stern of the M/V Queen City I see that as expected, even the outside of the boat is spotless. The wheelhouse on the Queen City was roomy, neat and tidy with a panoramic, bird’s-eye view. The captain was sitting in his chair, neatly positioned between the steering levers chatting off and on to the first mate. Spending time in the wheelhouse, looking down on the activity of the crew, listening to the radio or watching the radar was a pleasant way to spend an afternoon. The river charts were always opened to the section we were passing through and the pilot and I would chat about what we were seeing or what was coming up. We had always had charts and river books around and like any road map we could study the places we were traveling through. The cook climbed the many sets of stair and brought coffee for David and I then joined us as we sat quietly watching the river ahead. Our boat was pushing a load of about 18 empties northbound. The deckhands periodically walk the tow checking the lines and cables carrying their “cheater bars”, a six foot length of pipe used to tighten the tow wires. The cook headed back to the galley to bake and start preparations for the evening meal.




The deckhands keep watch on their barges, day and night.

The land above Moundsville was flat and boring, not at all like northern Kentucky with its rolling hills. The beaches were even and sandy and there were no noticeable cities or people. As we neared the lock, towboats were lined up against the shore like a string of 18 wheelers, all waiting their turn to lock through at Lock #53 and we were pretty far back in line.

In the afternoon Dave and I worked in the wheelhouse and then he walked me out to the head of the tow. The barges are a very dangerous place to walk and because I had been so young when my stepfather had been on towboats, I had never been out to the head of the tow before. The normal tow is 1,000 feet long so the whole boat is almost a quarter of a mile long and is usually described as the length of three football fields placed end to end. Barges have curved ends so they don’t meet up flush together. There is always a large hole between the barges and if you fall into these holes, you would be sucked down under the boat. There are large ropes, called lines, which need to be avoided so you don’t trip. Once you get to the front, it is hard to believe how small the towboat looks! With that much distance between the crew and the pilot you gain respect on how well everyone works together.

The tiny white spot in the middle of this photo is the towboat. It is amazing how far away it looks from the farthest barge. Deckhands walk up and down these barges many times a day checking the ropes and lines and giving the pilot measurements when heading into locks.

The Ribbon - Part Eight - Riding the Ribbon

After my divorce in 1988, I returned to Northern Kentucky at an opportune time. David had created his new company which subcontracted with a large towing company to supply crew and administration for towboats. He worked out an agreement for the lease of his first boat and with my office and managerial experience, I was enlisted to handle the land side of the business while he handled the river side. When the company first started, David was Captain on the Queen City but as he was able to add additional boats and crew, he chose to stay land side and run that part of the operation. He would ferry the crews to and from boats, line up new crew when necessary and work with the large company regarding contacts and future endeavors. I was responsible for all office management, payroll and interaction with the towing company for accounts receivables. After we would bill them, I would go to their offices, pick up the checks and then handle payroll and accounts payable. With the men on the boats for 30 days at a time, this would also include taking their pay checks to their families when they needed it. David ran the traditional “river family” style operation and all the crew and their families were extensions of ours. If something occurred on land and the deckhand or other crew member was doing his “days on”, we would handle the situation for them. It was imperative that the crew knew that matters were under control at home. However, there were times when a crew member needed to get off a boat and a new one added. David or I would contact a crew member ready to go, find the boat in question, and pick up the crew member who needed to get home while dropping off the replacement. Boats run 24/7/365 and they can’t just stop at a convenient location for getting on or off. The following river blogs are sections of my journal written during a week aboard the M/V Queen City, a towboat run by my stepbrother's towboat company:

On June 7, 1988 my brothers and I left Cincinnati at 6:00 a.m. to board a towboat on the lower section of the Ohio River. I had just joined David’s company, IMS, and David felt that I needed a refresher on the workings of a towboat. I hadn’t been on a boat in many, many years and he wanted me to spend some time on his new vessel which had been rechristened M/V Queen City.

We traveled west on Route 50 for hours, along the river through Indiana and then into Illinois. As we got closer to the end of the Ohio River before it becomes the Mississippi River, we attempted to contact the boat by radio. We finally received an answer back from the Captain as we neared Lock No. 53. The Queen City had just locked through and it would be an hour or so before we could find a spot to board. We drove a few miles down a gravel road outside of a city called Grand Chain to see if the boat was still visible from the lock. The dusty road was so hard to find that I know I would never locate it again by land. We parked the truck and walked over to the lock so David could introduce me to the lockmaster. As we stood on the concrete wall of the lock, we could see the Queen City heading down river towards Mound City which is just about the most southern tip of the State of Illinois.

A yawl coming out to the tow headed downstream

We met the boat at Mound City about 1:00 in the afternoon but because we hadn’t intercepted her at the lock, the only way to board was by boat. The mate came over to the public landing in the yawl and Dave, Norman (engineer) and I bounced out across the river to the boat which was going as slow as she could without stopping. Boarding a moving towboat from a small metal boat, even at a slow speed, is quite frightening but I kept a brave face. I grew up in a river family and I did not want to disgrace Captain Lou or Captain David.

Kitchen Update

Well, our weekend project has become our fall and winter project. After putting up the backsplash we mounted the cabinets on the wall to see how they will look. We mounted them much higher, almost flush with the ceiling and now I can only reach the bottom shelf. I knew this would happen so I'm okay with it. However, the style of our old cabinets is not what we want for the final look so we made some changes. Jim and I drove to IKEA and chose new cabinets that are 39" long, giving me another shelf that I will be able to reach without a step ladder. We are also going to at least double our storage space by circling the entire room with new, shiny white cabinets. We've also decided to put in a new ceiling and that is going to throw our timeframe totally out of whack. Wish us luck!

The old cabinets just don't look right. They're OUTTA HERE!

The Ribbon - Part Seven - River Rats

I never knew if my mother loved the river or just loved my stepfather enough to follow him wherever he took us. Her grandfather, James Wainwright Bristow, had been an engineer on the Steamship City of Cincinnati in the late 1800’s and her father, Benjamin Bristow, had also worked on the steamship at one time. The City of Cincinnati was a packet boat which ferried mail between Louisville and Cincinnati. Until the Newport floodwall was erected after the 1937 flood, my grandparents’ house had a river view and Grandma said that carnivals and circuses that would stop on the river bank across the street from their house. She said you could walk half way out into the river in the early years before they built the locks and dams. My earliest recollection of life on the river was at my grandparents’ house at 111 Washington Avenue in Newport, Kentucky. Sometimes, on a warm summer day with all the windows open, we could hear the Delta Queen coming down river as her calliope’s whistle carried on the breeze. If grandma was in good mood, she would allow us to cross busy Front Street under the watchful eye of an older sibling and climb up on the floodwall and wave as the majestic boat came down river. Grandma’s house was the last residence on the eastern side of Washington Avenue before the floodwall. Next door was a refinishing company and a bar on the corner. As young children we could never cross the floodwall alone but as we grew older and actually lived on the other side, Grandma’s house was just a short distance on the city side of the wall.

We were moved away from the river during much of my teen years. We lived with my grandparents or rented an apartment from my aunt although we would visit Lou on the boats where he was working. On weekends Mom and I would drive down to the Kentucky or Tennessee Rivers to pick Lou up for the weekend or just to hang around.

The first phase of the Big Mac Bridge was building the piers. Lou worked the tow boats that took the cranes, equipment and crew out to the piers.

In the early 70’s, the Daniel Beard Bridge was being built to link Newport and Cincinnati. Lou went to work for the bridge company as their towboat captain and our family once again moved to the riverfront on the Newport side.



Lou holding Chandra on their front deck which overlooked the bridge construction site. Their trailer was just east of the Big Mac Bridge

Mom and Lou bought another two bedroom mobile home and placed it on the east side of the construction site. Some of the construction workers on the site helped Lou put up a wooden deck on the river side of the trailer overlooking the riverfront. When he wasn’t piloting the boat from the shore to the piers, Lou would sit on the deck and read, drinking endless cups of coffee. The job was lucrative and mother finally had the opportunity not to work which came in handy when I needed a baby sitter for my first daughter.

My stepfather was friends with Griff Carlisle of Greater Cincinnati Marine and was proud to pilot Griff’s first boat, the Beverly Wayne. Griff founded his towing company in 1966 and the story goes that he needed a towboat and crane flat to move one of his cranes to a job on the Ohio River. He owned Carlisle Construction and was one of the largest crane companies in the U.S. He called a local marine operator and was told the equipment would be there the following Monday but when it hadn’t arrived in more than five days after that, Griff went to Tucker Marine Builders in Cincinnati and had a boat built. He named the boat the Beverly Wayne after his children. His son Wayne took over running the Carlisle Companies, and Griff devoted his time to towboats and the river, working 15 to 17 hours each day. He never missed a day’s work until a few days before his death in 2000.

A towboat push

Griff Carlisle was a sponser for a festival of riverboats held between his dock in Kentucky and Fernbank Park in Saylor Park, Ohio. On a summer day in 1988, my daughters and I rode on one of his boats during the festival. There were towboat races, shoving contests and in the evening there was a barge filled with fireworks. We thought it would be lots of fun to be on a fireworks barge and came out on the deck as the evening grew dark. As soon as the fuses were lit, we girls would ooh and ahh and then race into the wheelhouse as the rockets fell around us. We laughed as we ran, hoping to avoid catching our hair on fire and promising that once was enough for being this close to the action!

The Ribbon - Part Six - Towboats

We eventually moved back to dry land but Lou continued to work on the river, accumulating hours to become a towboat pilot. One summer weekend, we went to the Hydroplane Regatta in Madison, Indiana but instead of staying in a motel or hotel, we were on a towboat, tied up with a few others. We ate great towboat food, slept in crew quarters and had a bird’s eye view of the races from the pilot house. In the evenings, the meals rotated boat by boat and each cook made dinner for all of us, showing off their culinary skills. That was my first taste of towboat food from a larger boat where the food served was a matter of pride. We had beer gravy one evening which to a preteen was scandalous. The best part of the weekend was that a boat filled with adventure scouts tied up next to us and there were 30 boys my age and older that I could wave to! They were actually on a working weekend and I wasn’t allowed to board their boat but I had fun giggling over the boys anyway.

In May of 1967, Lou went off for a long assignment on a towboat. One of the most important parts of getting a pilot’s license was to work on boat and accumulate hours. The written test was just one part of the exam. You had to draw sections of the rivers you wanted to be qualified on and you had to have a tremendous amount of hours as a pilot. It was much like an apprenticeship program and it was a difficult task to find a boat where the pilot would work with someone and let them take the wheel to get these hours. Lou had taken a position as a first mate and pilot on the Ohio River working on the project to replace locks 43, 44 and 45 with the large Cannelton Lock and Dam and was gone from the family for the first time in our lives. My stepfather sent the following letter home which I have included to provide more details on how things were. He wasn’t a letter writer so this was a rare letter home to us. You can tell by his reference to working in trees that he was happy with his new profession.


It reads:

Dear Flo – Judy – Dave:
About halfway glad that you all never came down this week because it is a cold and gloomy day down here. Would like to see you all though. Hope you won some money at Bingo Sat. nite. Flo? I think this portion of the River is as pretty as I have ever seen and in all the twenty seven miles there is only a couple of little towns and only one factory to take away the beauty of the hills. Some spots have great big cliffs and it looks like there might be caves in it. We only have to make 5 trips a week and it takes about 3 hours to go down from Kosmos to the quarry. But we have to wait there until they load up our barges. That usually takes about 8 hrs. counting the time it takes us to hook them up again. Then we start up the river at the tremendous speed of about three miles an hour. We will make a lot better time when the river gets back in pool but then we will have to lock through at Dam 43. It is a real narrow dam and lock and a lot of boats have to use it so we may have to tie up there now and then. Then on Friday as soon as we get back here we all are taking turns going home. I will be home Fri. nite and won’t have to be back until Sun. nite after 8 o’clock. So I’ll see you all then. I’m lonesome for all of you but I think this is a fine job and I guess I’m making good money. My watch is from six till 12 and then I sleep and read or cook up something fancy. Jim sure puts plenty of food on the boat and anything we want we just add to the list and he gets it for us. I’m getting pretty good at running the boat and in one more week I’ll be able to run it all by myself. I sure have learned a lot about diesel engines and boats in general and we are getting all the bugs out of the boat slowly but surely. The job is real easy compared to climbing trees but if I’m not careful I’m going to get awful fat. Hope that you all will be able to live all right until I do get paid. I didn’t know they only paid every two weeks but after this week you should be in pretty good shape. I’m going to buy a carton of cigarettes and give up cigars. I think cause they’re too expensive. I’ve got $10 so I’ll send what’s left home in this letter. I don’t need any money for anything but stamps so we should be able to save a little when we get caught up. Let’s all four of us work real hard together and maybe we can do a nice vacation when I get off after 3 months.
I love all of you very much and I will see you all Fri. nite or early Sat. morn.
Love, Louey


In his continuing attempt to stockpile river hours and to earn some extra money when he was on his days off from a tow, Lou would work on any vessel he could. In the summer he would drive to a parking area at Schmit’s Field off of US 50, we would board the Jubilee and take it down to the public landing to pick up passengers. The boat would then cruise up to Coney Island for a few hours and then back to the public landing with the returning passengers. Sometimes it was a short trip up to the bend above Coney, now best known for the Riverbend Music Complex, and then just turn around and cruise down river back to the public landing

Sometimes there were sing-along on the boat, depending on the crowd or the best local pop and rock bands. My favorite was the band Hay Market Riot because they sang "Dear Prudence" to me and I would get cokes and ashtrays for them. At the end of the cruises I would help clean the boat and made a few dollars. Best of all, when Lou had to go to the bathroom or just wanted to let me, I would take over the wheel and pilot the boat up or down the river. He’d look back at the wake the boat was leaving and grade me on handling the boat. Back in the 60’s the boats had real wheels, not just rudder sticks and I had to stand on a wooden coke box to be able to navigate.

The Ribbon - Part Five - Everyday Life

The Kentucky River Police kept their boat at Big Rock and our patio was where they would bring drowning victims to be picked up by the coroner. It only help to intensify my fear of the river. I fell into the river twice while we lived at Big Rock and was lucky not to have drowned. Each time I fell in helping a boat tie up to our dock. The first time I fell between the boat and the float and the second time I was washed under the float and someone had to jump in and help me find my way out. Thank goodness my parents made me wear a life preserver at all times.

A large patio was eventually added to the harbor and it really livened things up. “Mother”, as my mom was affectionately called by all the folks on the river, would make large pots of soups and stews and have them ready to feed anybody who came in hungry. The boat didn’t have a regular kitchen and we were not considered a restaurant so the food was just there for the sharing. On a busy day, she might need to add an extra cup of water to the stew so no one went hungry.

During that summer someone caught an extremely large turtle and brought it to the harbor for my mother to cook. After it was disconnected from its portable home, my mother cut up the meat, floured and cooked it. We kids were disgusted but all the adults enjoyed a large pot of turtle stew. We were happy with a hot dog and chips.
Dick Arnold, a close friend of my parents, purchased Tri-City Yacht Club which was just east of our harbor. While we had two small docks for maybe a dozen boats, Tri City had long docks with multiple slips. Although our harbor was small, we had great times when the patrons who harbored their boats at Big Rock. At least once a week someone would decide to go harbor hopping and a few boats would fill to capacity and we would venture up and down the riverfront stopping here and there to have a meal or just drinks.

During my fifth grade at Park Avenue School Mom and Lou were able to buy a trailer to sit on the top of the hill overlooking Big Rock and we were living a life closer to normal. It sat just about where the Chart House and Don Pablo’s are now located in Newport, as you go into Bellevue. The trailer had only two bedrooms so I had to sleep on the sofa in the living room but it was definitely better than the floor of the boat harbor. Sadly, when the river flooded in the late sixties, my stepfather didn’t get the trailer out before the river flooded the entrance through the floodwall and as they pulled it to high land, the floors of the trailer were filled with water. We had to stay at my grandparents’ house after that.

Back in the sixties, not too many people appreciated the view we had of downtown Cincinnati and Mt. Adams. Now people pay hundreds of thousands of dollars to live there whereas back in the 50’s and 60’s, living on the river wasn't something that you bragged about.

The Ribbon - Part Four - Fun

Although the flood wall was a menace in cold weather, it was great fun in the summer. We would get big cardboard boxes and slide them down the hill, either riding inside or flattening them to make surf boards. We had to remember to move from time to time so the flood wall would not be totally devoid of grass or the police would stop in and mention it to our parents when it started to look bad.

My older brothers came up with more daring adventures on the riverfront. Whenever he would visit, my brother Donnie Mac always had a scheme to get attention on a large scale. He like to make dummies and would throw them into the river to look like a drowning victim. On one occasion he and one of my other brothers actually climbed onto the supports of the bridge now known as the Purple People Bridge, walked out until they were over the river itself and hung one of the dummies by a rope. Someone either on a boat or in a car drove past, noticed the body and called the authorities. There were police officers and news reporters trying to get to what they were sure was a body hanging from the bridge.

For more normal entertainment, my brothers formed a ski club at the boat harbor . I was not old enough or big enough to ski so I was the spotter, sitting in the back of the boat letting the driver know when someone got up onto the skis and when they fell. Lou kept a large pickle jar on the bar for donations to our club to help pay for skis and gas for whatever boat they could borrow to go skiing. When I was finally big enough to ski, I had no desire and never did learn. Our family did, however, sometimes just drop an anchor in the middle of the river and go swimming, jumping off the top of our little boat “Pogo.” We would bob in the wake of a boat going by with our musty yellow life vests holding us up out of the water.

My brothers sometimes fished, too, but I just thought it was a smelly pastime. When we took our little boat “Pogo” out for a ride I enjoyed being down in the cabin by myself, singing at the top of my lungs, knowing that no one could hear me above the sound of the engine. I’d sing about things I’d see on the shore we would be passing or about adventures I could have along the river banks. When I was playing on the river bank I would make camps and forts in small clusters of trees and cook up great stews and potions from weeds and flowers I found there.

Just a few years ago, my grandson, Nicholas, inspired “Just Like Tom & Huck” a river song I wrote about having fun wherever you are. “Just Like Tom & Huck “ celebrates imagination and what adventures can be found in your own back yard.


Just Like Tom & Huck

We’ve been buddies since I don’t know when
We go on wonderful adventures now and then
We read a story of some friends from long ago
Now floatin’ down the river, my friend and I must go
We found some tires to keep us afloat, and a piece of wood to build a boat
We’ll do it all with our own four hands, so we can go a floatin’ to distant lands
Down the Licking to the O-hi-o, to the Mississippi River we will go
All the way to the ocean with some luck,
We’ll go floatin’ down the river, just like Tom & Huck

I found a handkerchief to give our boat a flag
My friend will bring his tent and a sleeping bag
I’ve got a lantern to give our boat a light,
We’ll sing songs around the campfire to get us through the night
But we’ll have to tell our mom a great big lie
They’d worry so much it would make them cry
We’ll take some fishing poles, some hooks and string
We won’t worry ‘bout tomorrow, we’ll just see what it brings
Down the Licking to the O-hi-o, to the Mississippi River we will go
All the way to the ocean with some luck,
We’ll go floatin’ down the river, just like Tom & Huck

We’ll both sneak out at the first light of day,
We’ll set our boat afloat and then be on our way
Best friends forever, wherever we may roam, We’ll go floatin’ to the ocean
And then we’ll come back home
Down the Licking to the O-hi-o, to the Mississippi River we will go
All the way to the ocean with some luck,
We’ll go floatin’ down the river, just like Tom & Huck
Floatin’ down the river, just like Tom & Huck

Copyright - Prudence Hunt © 2003

The Ribbon - Part Three - Big Rock

Lou learned of a small boat harbor in need of a harbor master so in the Summer of 1963 we moved to the foot of Park Avenue on the river side of the floodwall so Lou begin his dream of a life on the river. "Big Rock" boat harbor was a very small boat with one big room that was set up as a bar downstairs and split into two rooms upstairs. There was no door between the rooms and they were very small. The kitchen area could only hold the appliances and a kitchen table and the other room only held the bed that Mom and Lou slept in. David and I slept on the floor. (Frank had gone into the Marines and Donnie and Norman were back with our father in Fairfax)

Lou working in the bar at Big Rock

Going to school in the morning was really a chore. First you had to cross the gangplank which was quite hazardous in winter and sometimes encased in ice. Often in the spring and fall the gangplank would be covered by the dense fog that hovered over the riverbank. By far the worst obstacle to crossing to land was the occasional river rat that came onto the boat to look for scraps of garbage. The rats were a constant menace on the river banks due to the abundance of food that might wash up or the occasional rabbit that wasn’t quick enough to get away. I would stomp as I crossed, as if there were trolls living under the metal planking. Next challenge was to cross the flood wall which was either wet with dew or snowy in the mornings. There was no opening at the end of Park Avenue like there is now. We lived right across the floodwall from the beginning of Park Avenue and many a morning I would get almost to the top of the wall, loss my footing and slide back down. This was still in the day when girls couldn't wear pants to school and my skinny little legs would be rosy red with cold by the time I got there.

It wasn't all bad. One benefit of sleeping on the upstairs floor was the wonderful rocking each time a tow or large boat would pass by. Waves would be inconvenient at times but if you looked on the bright side, they were fun. If the harbor wasn’t too busy, we were sometimes permitted to jump off the end of the dock into a large inner tub that was tied off to a float. We would climb into the tube and ride the waves whenever they would roll in.


This fuzzy photo is the view of Mt. Adams from the patio at Big Rock. We are having this photo restored and will update this blog when finished. As you can see, a towboat is passing in front of us which was the reason for the photo.

The Ribbon - Part Two - Trees

My stepfather, Lou Hammond, must have been born with river water in his veins. I'm not sure if my mother had any clue of this when became a family in 1956. Lou worked for his family’s company, Hammond Tree Service, and would come home sweaty, smelly and often covered with scratches and scrapes from trimming and topping trees. When I was out of school for summer or Christmas break I would ride along as he called on homeowners to see if they had any trees that needed to be cut, trimmed or removed. First he would call on people who had contacted him then he would cold call by stopping by homes with large trees that could use some work. Most days at least one house would need his services and I would sit in the truck while he went about being a “tree surgeon.” After he had finished and loaded the back of the truck with brush and limbs, we would head home, stopping first by a dumping area. I would hold my breath and grab whatever was available while Lou would accelerate and back the truck up towards a steep embankment. I would scream as he stomped the brake to make the load slide out of the back of the truck into the ravine. As I got older, my screams were not appreciated and I just held my breath tighter.

My brother Frank and I in front of Lou's truck

Lou was a well-read man and knew everything about trees. I loved to walk with him through yards and forests and have him recite the Latin names of the trees and bushes. When I was with him I could climb tall trees, knowing that he would be there to rescue me if I climbed too high and couldn’t get myself back to earth.

At Christmas time Lou and his brother Bob would take my brothers and me to a Christmas tree farm and the men and older boys would spend the early morning cutting hundreds of trees. We younger kids would hold the twine as the men would wrap the trees to minimize their girth and then load a large truck with as many trees as it could hold. For helping, each of us was given a small number of trees of our own to sell and make Christmas money. While Lou would sell his trees at an empty lot in downtown Newport, we kids would stand outside the local grocery, bathed in the smell of pine and get about $2.00 per tree. Being the smallest, I usually only had a few trees that were considered mine but it was one of my favorite times of the year.
In the coming years he made less and less calls and instead would drive around and stop at marinas and boat harbors. Lou would sit and smoke and talk with the river folk at these boat docks. Sitting quietly by his side, I’d sip my coke and maybe play with the occasional mutt that was wandering about. Lou knew for certain what he wanted and it had nothing to do with trees.

The Ribbon - Part One

As a child I felt no guilt for not loving the river. It was my stepfather’s passion and my mother’s obligation but to me it was something I feared. I worried that the dark, foreboding water would snatch me under when no one was watching. To that end my best friend and smelliest companion was the bright orange life preserver I wore like a second set of skin.

Living on the river was lonely, too. My friends and cousins were never permitted to visit because of the dangers that lurked on the shore and on the boats. So I would spend many hours wandering the river bank or just sitting quietly among the grownups, listening to their stories about this boat or that. I didn’t think much about the river once I grew up and started my own journey through life.

That was until one January evening in 2002 as I was driving eastbound on Columbia Parkway from downtown Cincinnati. To my right I saw the black and white image of a large tow, loaded with coal, coming down river, ready to make her delicate dance through the multiple bridges of the Cincinnati riverfront. Something about that image through the winter-bare trees brought back memories of my life on the river. If my stepfather Lou would have been with me, he could have told me the history of the boat that was passing as well as who might be on the crew. We grew up on the river off and on during my childhood and that tow coming down the river just as the day was ending, caused a million memories to flood my mind.

When I reached home, words were swirling in my head and I quickly sat down with my guitar to write “The Ribbon”, a song of faded memories that flood back at the sight of a “lady” slowing coming past the Port of Cincinnati. After the song was written, I retrieved my diary from 1988 and reminisced about the last trip I had made on the river which caused me to go even further back to when I rode the ribbon as a child.

The Story of the "The Ribbon"

In January of 2002, as I was driving home from work, east on Columbia Parkway, I saw a towboat heading for the bridges which link Ohio and Kentucky. At that moment, for some unknown reason, memories flooded into my head of the life we had led on the Ohio River and the many times I had come down that stretch toward the bridges. By the time I pulled into my driveway, less than a half an hour later, the muse had whispered a new song into my soul.

I wrote a small booklet also called "The Ribbon" with memories and journal entries of my life on the Ohio. I will post it through this blog over the next two weeks as I "rest" my knee.

I hope you enjoy my story and my song.

The Ribbon

Driving home at sunset heading east along the river
As the sky is turning pink and grey
Through the silhouette of darkened trees I spy a lady,
Riding on the ribbon, southbound on her way
She’s loaded full and loaded deep with coal she must deliver
Her diesel engines turning night and day
With Mehldahl Lock behind her and the bridges fast approaching
She’ll make the Port of Cincinnati before the end of day
My mind begins to wander back to when I rode the Ribbon,
Back as far as thoughts can really go
My mom was in the galley and my dad was in the wheelhouse
The boys would rally ‘round to check the engine and the tow

The world is slow & peaceful when you’re riding on the Ribbon,
Under summer sun or under winter snow
When school was out I’d get to ride the beautiful Ohio
I’d even get the hold the wheel when Dad would go below
Folks are more like family when they're living on the Ribbon
You’re always greeting someone that you know
The trips were long for some
But you would always bridge the distance
Trading news and stories all across the radio
My mind begins to wander back to when I rode the Ribbon,
Back as far as thoughts can really go
My mom was in the galley and my dad was in the wheelhouse
The boys would rally ‘round to check the engine and the tow

It’s hard to tell a stranger ‘bout the colors of the Ribbon
Emerald green at noontime, sparkling diamonds great the night
Then it winds like velvet through the quiet, blackened hillsides
Turning pink to red to gold in early morning light
I stop the car and wander out so I can watch the lady
Riding down the Ribbon as the sky is turning grey
She’ll tiptoe through the bridges of the Port of Cincinnati
And make the Port of Louisville before the break of day


Copyright - Prudence Hunt (January 2002)

Superstition Ain't the Way

I'm superstitious. I know that I shouldn't be but my upbringing by a family of superstitious women either rubbed off or is a part of my DNA. I try to ignore the little things that creep up each day and tell myself its silliness but I can't shake it. We're not the black cat type of superstitious, more the offbeat and kookie type.

I should have known better when I wrote in a blog a few days back... "It seems like each time we had tried to make time to fix it, something has come up that takes us away from the project." Oh, how I tempt fate, karma and Mr. Murphy all at once. Hadn't I been told not to say things (or write things) that those three could hear?

The afternoon of August 31st had been quite productive.... and then we heard, "Poppi, why is the computer screen all blue with just some white writing?" Sitting there minding its own business, our Frankenstein computer decided to kick the bucket. Jim had built it over years and it crashed from time to time but he always got it back on track. Not this time, it was dead and it wanted to stay dead. Jim worked on it for a few hours on Sunday evening, trying not to take too much time away from the kitchen remodeling. He finally declared that it had truly passed and a few words of farewell were muttered over its plastic casing.

Monday went better but on Tuesday evening, as soon as we set up the horses and the circular saw to cut and mount more backsplash, it started raining. Hmmmm, this seemed a bit strange because we had just had dinner while watching news & weather which promised no sign of rain for days. By the time the rain had had its fun, it was too dark to work out back. Of course, it wasn't enough rain to water the lawn or soak the plants, just enough to keep us from using power tools in the yard.

On Wednesday I was told by my orthopaedic surgeon to keep off my bad knee and use crutches or a cane for the next two weeks while we wait for some improvement in my meniscus. Its hard to carry backsplash or countertops with both arms holding up crutches.

Do we see a pattern forming?

So progress is slow. With Jim's persistence the shiny white tile now covers more than half the back wall. Unfortunately the new window is on hold until Jim finds one he likes and we can have a contractor install it from the outside. With luck, and I mean luck, the new countertop might be in by the weekend. So until then its take-out burgers, chicken and pizza with no dishes to wash! Might as well accentuate the positive!

Sports Injury

Well, it was as expected, the MRI shows that I have a torn meniscus in my left knee. It would be a better story to say that I suffered a sports injury from football, rugby or soccer but that would be a tremendous lie. I still am not sure how I suffered this knee ailment because all I did was get out of my office chair to go home and couldn't walk. Dr. Harding is going to give it two more weeks before he schedules arthroscopic surgery because in some cases the tears heal themselves. I will be hobbling for the next few weeks with my cane or crutches so please, please don't make fun. Either of those could be a lethal weapon.

Demolition Man

Nick was in the backyard with us while we measured and cut the new backsplash. The heat didn't deter "Mr. Demolition Man" as he chopped up the old paneling into smaller pieces that the garbage men could haul away. After pulling out approximately 2 million nails, he whacked and hacked it using feet, hands and a few broken chair legs. Go for it Mr. D.

Hard Hat - Labor Day

With the help of Nick, Cody & Justin the cabinets and old paneling came down quite fast. After helping where they could, they settled in for computer games and movies while Jim and I worked with graph paper to decide what would go where. The new window is a blessing and a curse when it comes to laying out the wall. We charted the new location of cabinets then called it a night.

On Labor Day we labored. First order of business was purchasing our backsplash and countertop. Getting them into the van was difficult but with the help of a good Samaritan we were loaded and Jim and I crammed our seats so far up that I don't know how Jim drove! I was laughing about how squished we were until he mentioned that it would be a bad time for the airbags to go off. The rest of the trip I held my breath and kept my fingers crossed.

With our building materials, a new circular saw and a florescent green hard hat, we were ready to remodel. Jim measured twice and cut once, just like the carpenter he was trained to be. As he has always told me, prep work is the hardest part of any job and this was no exception. By late Monday evening we had only two sections of backsplash up. Our work is on standby until we get the window framed in and know our dimensions for the remaining backsplash. My new countertop is safely stored in the Volvo wagon, waiting for this turn to be added to our new kitchen. I have to admit that I am very impatient and would have worked through the night if we could have. My gimpy knee certainly isn't making the task any easier, either.

We looked at the window Jim had saved and decided that we might not use it after all. It's a much bigger window than we would have chosen and the frame has yellowed just a bit over the years. The final decision was based on the amount of space the existing window would take. If we go just a tad smaller we will have room for one more cabinet over the counter and that is a major factor in our small kitchen.