Through An 'Old Timer's' Eyes
By Howard 'Mac' McDonald

While channel surfing the T.V., I came across an old movie about Huck Finn, a character created by the famous author, Mark Twain. His stories about Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn were centered around the town of Hannibal, Missouri.

As a young man in Hannibal, Samuel Langhorn Clemens got work on a river steamboat and later became a licensed river boat pilot. It is believed that he took the pen name of Mark Twain from a call that was given by one of the hands.

The deck hand would throw his rope off the front end of the boat and if the water was 12 feet or deeper he would yell out, "Mark Twain."

Mark Twain's writings are still popular today and most of his works can be found in the local library.

Today, America's rivers still have a lot of traffic. Gone are the stern paddle wheel steamboats, replaced by the diesel tow boat. The Monongahela Valley was once known as the Steel Valley, but there is not one steel mill in the valley. With the departure of the steel mills the river traffic diminished. Most of the coal had been delivered to the mills along the river by barges which were pushed by the boats.

Two giant steel producers, U.S. Steel and Jones and Laughlin, plied the Monongahela and the Ohio rivers delivering their goods.

The crews came under the Maritime Laws and belonged to unions that serviced the Merchant Seamen. These crews worked six hours on and six hours off and they were on the water for ten days straight, then off for five days.

These river boats were also staffed by cooks and chamber maids. The food was always first class and the quarters immaculate. Even the crews' clothes were laundered.

When I was a young lad, I spent a lot of time along the Monongahela. We had a big sandbar we used as a beach and in the spring we would start a fire that never went out all summer long. There was plenty of driftwood and coal washed up on the bank. We would roast potatoes and an occasional stolen chicken. Sometimes we would raid the gardens for sweet corn, or pilfer a quart of old man Broggi's home brew. We called ourselves the "River Rats."

It is a wonder that we all didn't come down with some awful disease, as the river water was contaminated from the mills and the cities. Maybe old man Broggi's home brew saved us. Every once in a while the water would get high and we would lose our resort. It was always an adventure after the waters would recede to see what new thing was washed up on our sandbar.

One day after the high water, we had a two-man kayak pay us a visit. This boat even had the paddle inside. We had one heck of a good time chasing the steamboats that summer. Before the summer was over, some dirty rat stole our kayak and we were back to inner tubes and logs.

Aunt Gwen was the ranking cook for U.S. Steel and her boat was the Homestead. If you could tell what boat was coming by her whistle, you were the epitome of a river kid.

One warm spring day, Jimmy Gilmer and I skipped school and went to our favorite spot, the sandbar. We could see a boat about a mile away. The boat whistled and Jim said, "That is the Homestead." We grabbed a couple driftwood logs and paddled out to the middle of the river.

The pilot blew the whistle at us to get out of the way and we gave him just enough room. When they went by, I was hollering for my aunt and when she came to the rail. She was screaming something at me, but I couldn't hear what. The boat went by and we were in the big waves left by the paddle wheel. The Homestead went on its way and we went ashore.

Neither one of us was allowed to swim in the river and if my parents found out I was in the middle of the river, I was in big trouble. About a halfhour after our encounter with the Homestead, my dad came over the bank with a big willow switch. We were skinny dipping and he caught us both in the buff.

He wouldn't let us get dressed and herded us in front of God and everyone else straight to the house. About every two steps he would apply a whack with the willow switch. I ask him how he knew where to find us, and he answered, "Your aunt Gwen called me from Lock Four." Never made that mistake again.

My Aunt Clara was the cook on the Clairton. One very foggy Christmas Eve, they were rammed by another U.S. Steel boat called the Allegheny. The Clairton went to the bottom and all the crew members made it to the top of the boat and were pulled off when it got daylight.

Everyone for miles around came to see the sunken Clairton. U.S. Steel had a salvage crew come in and within a week they had it fixed and afloat.

My two aunts were very generous with their money but you always had to do something to earn it. They liked us to sing and dance for our ten cents. I had to sing and tap dance to a hit tune of the times called Goody."

After the show we would get our dimes. I would sometimes get a dime and my brother would get two nickels. My brother is seven years my senior and when we were alone he would say, "I'll trade you one of these big ones for your small one." Ignorance is bliss and I guess I was very blissful.

My Aunt Gwen outlasted the steamboats but did not like the diesels. She said they vibrated too much and when she went to bed, she had to put her false teeth in her shoes. I guess they vibrated off her night stand and she had a hard time finding them in the morning.

The Monongahela's waters are now clean enough for trout, walleyes and muskies. Gone are the steamboats, my aunts and our old sandbar, but the memories still live on.