The Great Ohio River Flatboat Race - My Contribution to History!

I have a couple of friends and acquaintances who, pretty much every weekend, don Union or Confederate uniforms and head out somewhere for a civil war reinactment.

They do this because (1) they're fascinated with the civil war, (2) they're fascinated with history in general or (3) they have an acting "bug" and civil war reinactments are the only "plays" that happen nearly every weekend somewhere where they're guaranteed a part (unless they're a professional wrestler).

I never participated in any kind of war reinactment but I did play a part in a historical event once.  It was in 1977 and it was called "The Great Ohio River Flatboat Race."

A few years ago, one of the City Fathers in Owensboro met up with one of the City Fathers in Henderson and they thought it would be a good idea, since both cities were located on the banks of the Ohio River, to hold an annual Flatboat Race, beginning upstream in Owensboro and ending in Henderson.  For those of you that are not familiar with a flatboat, they're the forerunner to today's houseboat and were mostly used for transporting goods and occasionally people down the river to the new frontier.

Note the emphasis on "down" the river because once you got to where you were going, the flatboats basically became "junk" since they didn't travel back upriver very efficiently. 

I suppose the most famous of the flatboaters was a chap named Mike Fink.  I never heard of him until I visited Walt Disney World where the keelboat ride is named after him.  A keelboat is slightly different than a flatboat but basically served the same purpose.  Wikipedia says Mike Fink, (b.1770/1780?? – ca.1823) called "king of the keelboaters", was a semi-legendary brawler and river-boatman who exemplified the tough and hard-drinking men who ran keelboats up and down the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers.  My kind of hero.  I decided that this flatboat race deserved "lookin' into!"

Once I had talked to the organizers (it took them all of about five minutes to talk me into becoming a part of this event), I had about three months to form a crew, build a flatboat and get it to the Owensboro riverfront.   This became more complicated by the fact that my wife had let herself become pregnant and we were expecting our second child about a month before the beginning of the race.  I had hoped she wouldn't deliver late because I didn't really want to miss the birth of this child.  As it turned out, our son Brad was born on July 25, 1977, about three weeks before Elvis died.   The race dates were August 5-8, 1977.  This would give Pat time to "bond" with this new child while I performed my historical duty on the Ohio River for a couple of days or so.  She was very happy about that.

In order to make the August race I needed to get a crew and build a boat and it was already June.  In order to find a crew that would exemplify the legendary brawler and riverboatmen who were "tough" and "hard drinkin' (they gave a prize for realism), I turned to all my rowdy buddies in the Jaycees.  Buster Brewer was kind enough to let us use the parking lot at the fairgrounds to build the boat which would be about the size of Noah's ark.  Having no flatboat building experience, I went to the library and found a book about Mike Fink and in that book we found some pictures of flatboats.  These were of pretty simple design which matched our "simple" minds very well.

We built the entire boat from common exterior plywood and two by fours and added genuine log slabs for the siding.  This gave it a very pioneering look.  Since it would be in a race each day, we also fabricated some long oars from 2 x 2's with plywood paddles on the ends.  Since we were unable to test it out before race day (we finished it the day before the race began), we wouldn't know if it would float until we launched it in Owensboro.  We installed a gasoline operated water pump we borrowed from one of the mines just in case.  Because we are from near the Green River,  we christened the boat "The Queen of the Green."

Lester Motors was kind enough to loan us the long truck they used to deliver tractors on for us to transport the boat to Owensboro.  We loaded it carefully the night before by "jacking" it up about 5' in the air on four corners and backing the truck under it.  We then lowered it on the bed.  The trip to Owensboro was uneventful and when we arrived at the riverfront about 11 am (the race was to begin at noon) there was a crowd of about 1,000 people to "see us off."  There were fifteen boats entered that year.

Some were like ours - questionable, while others were professionally built.  There was a crew from Scuffletown, Indiana (where the Alcoa Plant now sits and it was built by some of their workers) that had a boat aptly named the "John Sevier," (for whom Sevierville, Tennessee is named).  This boat was so detailed that no nails was used in it's construction.  It was assembled using wooden pegs that "swelled" when made wet.  The crew even wore rawhide suits and coonskin caps.  It was very realistic.

Madisonville had a boat that wasn't going for the "realism" award.  They had won the rowing events each day.  Their boat was more like a fiberglass skiff, flat on bottom but with no cabin and they even had aluminum oars.  We knew we didn't have a chance in the "racing" portion (which was  the beginning mile and ending mile each day).

Madisonville was already in the middle of the river and was showing off their rowing skills by pulling a skier behind their boat while rowing it.....UPSTREAM!

Most of the other boats were like ours, definitely made by amateurs, manned mostly by members of Jaycees, Shriners, American Legionairres and various shops and factory workers.  Some brought their wives and girlfriends.  Most were equipped with some sort of restroom, a charcoal grill and sleeping berths.  Our boat had none of these.  We were one of the last boats to launch.  We backed the truck down to the water's edge (at the end of Frederica Street) and when we raised the dump bed the boat started to slip off and hung on something and got stuck sideways on the truck.  We had an accompanying power boat (a requirement of the rules committee) and we hooked a rope to it and attempted to pull it off the truck.  All of the other crews were sitting atop their boats laughing at us.  They all laughed harder when I told them "I'll bet you guys thing we don't know what we're doing!"  Finally after tugging at the flatboat for about half an hour, she finally came loose and slid into the water.  It was a proud moment.

We couldn't help but notice that she began taking on water as soon as she was launched.  We were in the water about fifteen minutes and there was already about 6" in her bottom.  Since the sides were about three feet high, this meant she needed to be pumped every couple hours or so.  The large mine pump would pump her dry in about fifteen minutes.  We began loading our cargo which was mostly beer and "beanie-weenies," (both plain and for the more adventurous, "chili").  We had built some benches around the inside for sitting.  Since we would be tied to shore and camping each night, we would sleep on the bank.

Excitement built as our boats were towed to beneath the Glover Cary Bridge and lined up.  A pistol was fired from shore signifying the beginning of the Great Ohio River Flatboat Race.  There were about twenty people on board each boat which made up each crew.  We were to row the first mile and were given points for how we finished.

Madisonville's boat was so fast it created a "wake."   They brought in a "rowing" team for only that purpose.  At the end of the first mile, they brought in another crew to ride the boat after the first mile, relieving the rowing team who rode the pontoon back to shore.  At the end of each day, when the rowing portion resumed, they would bring the rowing team back out to the boat to do their duty.  Everyone on their team had a purpose.  Those who didn't row excelled in some other feat as they had various contests when we reached land.  There was a tobacco spitting contest so they brought along a champion tobacco spitter.  There was a cow chip throwing contest so they brought along an expert in that.  There were other contests such as 100 yd. dash, shotput, pole vault, etc. and they brought along people who were supposedly good at all of this.  They took this race seriously.

The "Queen of the Green" made a mediocre start in the rowing portion finishing about twelfth out of the fifteen boats.   The first night took us to English Island, a few miles downriver since we got a late start.  We would camp for the night and leave at around 8:00 am the next day (a Friday).   Since we didn't bring any tents, most of our crew returned to Owensboro (via our support boat), then back to Central City to get their rest at home.  A few of us remained with the boat and slept on it while we weren't pumping water out of it.  We discovered we were tied over a sand bar and if we just let about 18" of water enter the boat it would sit on bottom and not sink.  All we had to do was pump it out (took about ten minutes) early in the morning to regain flotation so we could continue the trip.  We slept on chaise lounges on the roof of the cabin.  Next morning we were awakened by the rising sun and the return of the crew who even brought us some coffee and Mcmuffins.  By 8 AM we returned to the center of the river for a day of "racing."

We were on the water about fifteen minutes when a couple of the flatboats decided to tie together.  This was followed by a couple more and a couple more until all of the boats were tied together for a floating party flotilla except Madisonville who chose to float alone.  The plan was to float until about noon, then pull ashore on the Indiana side for lunch.  While several of the boats prepared gourmet meals on sophisticated grills, we ate Chili Beanie Weenies and Potato Chips while we pumped the two feet of water out of our boat.  We also had time for swimming and recreation and there were some contests held on the shore.  One of these was a "buffalo chip" skipping contest, sponsored by our crew (each crew had to sponsor some sort of contest).  We had to supply the buffalo chips (in case you didn't know, these are dried buffalo dung) which normally aren't easy to come by.  Luckily, Otto Corum of Madisonville had a herd of buffalo on his farm and he invited us over to gather all the "chips" we could pack.  We gathered about 400-500 chips that averaged about 8" in diameter.  A buffalo chip is very flat and when seasoned properly in the hot sun, very hard.  The idea of the contest was simple.  Contestants would stand on the shore at water's edge and throw the chips "frisbee style."  Prizes were given for number of skips, distance and accuracy (we floated an inner tube out in the water and the idea was to land a chip in it's center....which no one did).  As predicted, Madisonville's crew brought in a world class buffalo chip skipper and distance thrower.  He threw discus in high school and was built like Charles Atlas.  They had no trouble in taking home the trophy for both distance and number of skips.  Morganfield's crew sponsored an egg tossing contest.  Madisonville brought in two world class "egg tossers" who happened to be brothers and chicken farmers who actually practiced this art all year long.  Needless to say they won that contest too.

About 3 p.m., we set back out in the river, tying the boats together again and somebody got up a beer drinking contest.  We didn't win it but at least Madisonville didn't either (it wasn't sanctioned by the committee anyway).  We needed to float another hour or so before we would "row" the last mile before tying up at Newburgh Indiana where they were having a "Flatboat Festival" and we would spend the night there.  Madisonville's pontoon showed up about forty five minutes later with the rowing crew.

The other guys exited their boat while the "rowers" climbed aboard.  The committee representative announced for us to untie our boats and prepare for the rowing exercise.

We started our pump and pumped about two feet of water out of our boat.  At precisely 4 p.m. the flatboat committee "shooter" fired a pistol into the air and the race was on.  Madisonville let everyone get at least a five minute head start before they pulled away and it was like a speedboat racing fourteen aircraft carriers.  They arrived in Newburg fifteen minutes before anyone else, got their trophy from the Mayor, rowed back out into the center of the Ohio and changed crews again before the second place boat even came in sight.  The "John Sevier" finished second and the other thirteen boats tied for third.  

We pulled over to an area right off of downtown "Old" Newburgh called "Newburgh Beach."  This "beach" was a sloped bank running about sixty degrees uphill from the river, covered with large rocks called "rip-rap."  The audience who greeted us at the top were mostly motorcycle gang members.  They were bearded, grubby men and women wearing sleeveless jackets and dirty Levi's.  Newburgh (or somebody) had several beer tents set up on the main street.  The motorcycle gang members seemed to enjoy "bombarding" us with glass beer bottles as we attempted to climb the "rip-rap" to the top of the bank.  A gentleman who lived about two blocks from all this action was kind enough to let us use his large gazebo to sleep in on his concrete floor and a few picnic tables.  At least it was screened to keep out mosquitoes and had a roof in case it rained.  A couple of guys drove over from Central City and brought us some baloney and bread, fresh potato chips and soft drinks.  They also brought sleeping bags.  We were set for the night (this was a Friday Night).  We were worn out and some of us wanted to go to bed shortly after dark.  We had one small problem to attend to first.

Since we were two blocks from the boat and it was about 9 p.m. and we weren't leaving Newburgh until 8:00 am the next morning and Newburg Beach didn't have any sand bar for the boat to rest on, we would need to pump it out at least once an hour, lest she sink.  We affixed a schedule beginning at 10 pm with each crew member responsible for taking his hour, pumping out the boat, then waking up the next guy on the list to do the same.  My shift was from 11 pm to Midnight.  When I returned to the gazebo, I woke up the next guy.  About 4 am I heard someone wake up Larry Vincent for his shift.  Larry then got out of his sleeping bag and walked over to Steve Joyce, woke him up and told him it was 5 am and time for him to go pump out the boat.  Steve "trekked" off into the darkness and you guessed it...we ran out of pumpers at 7 am.  When we were ready to board the boat at 8 am water only liked about 12" filling it up completely.  The flotilla was kind enough to wait on us while we pumped for about twenty minutes.  We had no more than pushed off when we had to "lock through" Newburgh Lock and Dam.  As we were inside the locks, Ann Komis, the news anchor from Channel 14 had a crew on top and she was doing a newscast live for the Saturday morning news.  When the camerman was "panning and zooming" his camera to the flotilla, the crew from Ohio County took the liberty of "mooning" the camera.  Of course there we were standing right alongside them except the camera was showing our faces.  It was kinda embarrassing.  I met Ann Komis at a home show in Owensboro a few months later and hope she didn't recognize me.

We floated until early afternoon toward Evansville (where we would spend Saturday night).  Again, we pulled to the Kentucky side of the shore, ate lunch and had more contests.  One of these was to be a "wet tee-shirt" contest.  As I guessed, Madisonville hauled in some beautiful, buxom young ladies who were well endowed.  It looked like they were going to win this contest too (we really didn't care because we didn't enter it).  Just as the announcer was gathering the audience and participants together, a speedboat pulled up in the middle of the flatboats and tied off.  It was the support boat from Morganfield.  One of the members of their crew was some kin to "Chesty Morgan," a stripper famous for her 54" bosom.  She agreed to be their entry in the contest (which became a "no contest").  Finally, someone had beaten Madisonville at something.   The next contest was the "tobacco spitting" contest.  We entered that one and for some odd reason the crew elected me (I had only chewed tobacco one other time in my life) to represent our boat.  Madisonville brought in an old country boy whose nickname was "beligerant"....and he was properly named.  No one liked him, even his fellow crewmen but he was apparently a "tobacco spitter" of the finest order so they tolerated him.  For some reason he was proud of the fact that he could "break wind" on demand, and did so quite often.  Hence his name.  There were about ten of us entered.  Someone gave me a bag of Chattanooga Chew (which I still think they mixed with the left over buffalo chips).  I stuck a plug in my mouth and began chewing it until it felt "thick and gooey."  We were spitting for both distance and accuracy.

A line was drawn in the sand that was about forty feet long and the idea was to spit for distance and hit the line.  The distance you missed the line was deducted from the distance you spit.   You were given two spits, and you could discard one.  Most "spitters" only spit from 5 to 10 feet.  Then came "Beligerant."  His first spit went about twenty feet and was within 6" of the line.  His second went about twenty four feet and was about a foot off the line, netting him twenty three feet.  It was now my turn.

My first spit only went about six feet and about a foot off the line netting me five feet.  Something happened during my second spit...sort of like a divine intervention.  Every thing seemed to be in slow motion.  I backed away from the "spitting" line, took in a deep breath (nearly swallowing my plug), walked back up to the line and fired with everything I had.  The "lunger" traveled in a straight line flipping "end over end" about three times before landing thirty two feet and directly on the line.  We won the contest.  I felt like the pitcher in "Casey at the Bat."  "Beligerant" nearly cried and he was hustled back to their pontoon never to be seen again for the rest of the race.

We got back on the river early that afternoon and partied all the way to the Evansville riverfront.  It was beginning to rain when we pulled to shore.  We tied off the boat.

The bank was shallow allowing the boat to set on the bottom so we didn't have to worry about her sinking.  We then walked up toward downtown and rented a hotel room where we got hot showers, went to a restaurant for a good meal and slept in warm, dry beds.  It was heaven.

Next morning, we set off on the final leg of our trip, a short excursion to Henderson.  When we arrived at the riverfront we were met by a large group of people and most importantly our wives and families.  Yes, even my two week old son greeted me as a hero although I don't really believe he knew what was happening.  He must have been having fun though because he smiled the whole time.  My wife brought me all of the daily newspaper clippings from the Messenger-Inquirer telling of the events of the race.  Fortunately, Keith Lawrence, their reporter who traveled along with us was kind enough to leave out a lot of details. 

It was a lot of fun but I wouldn't do it again for all the money in the world.  The race lasted another three or four years.  Madisonville lost interest after that year and never entered again.  They were replaced by a group of farmers from Daviess County named the Boarman Brothers.  These guys won the rowing contest and were overall winners for the final three years. 

We hauled the "Queen of the Green" back to Central City and put her on display at the old fairgrounds for a couple of weeks and finally to celebrate her maiden voyage (and protect us from another one), we had a community bonfire with her and burnt her to the ground.  I still have one of the old tee shirts (it's about six sizes too small now) that said "Queen of the Green," Great Ohio River Flatboat Race, 1977!  Maybe it'll end up in a Museum someday!