FUN
ON THE OLD CANAL 1
by Ralph May
To those of us who spent
our childhood in New Bremen during the days when the Miami & Erie was still
filled with water and when a boat occasionally passed through, the “old
waterway” and the “towpath” will ever be dear.
The canal not only divided
the town in a sense of rivalry, but it was the center of all our boyish
amusements. When the canal became a
sheet of ice after Thanksgiving, the fun began.
The pond froze over
first. We would then venture forth
along the canal banks and try out the middle by throwing heavy stones upon the
ice. If they rebounded across to the
other side without going through at any point, we knew all was safe. We would then take our skates to Gast’s
blacksmith shop to get them sharpened before putting them on.
We all learned to skate on
Barney & Berry girls’ skates since these gave extra support at the heel and
around the ankle. Also, they seldom
came off. Boy’s skates were always
coming loose.
We played ice polo on the
pond starting early on Saturday mornings.
Rabe’s Factory supplied the clubs and “the dumps” provided the tin cans.
In those days, it was a long sweep from the base on the north end to the other
base (“King’s pond”) on the south, and it took many a sturdy stride to carry
the battered tin can along from one base to the other. If the can hit you on the shin, it usually
laid you out for the rest of the day.
Other games we played on the ice were “Fox & Geese” and “What are
you doing in my vineyard?”
None of us will ever forget
the Taylor family when we think of skating on the Miami & Erie. They were all experts, having been taught by
their father, Ohio Waterman Taylor, and we loved to see them perform on the
ice.
It was common for large
groups to skate to Minster or Fort Loramie (Berlin, as it was called
then). The winter landscape and the
high, protecting west bank made it pleasant for all of us.
The first mile-stone was
the Amsterdam bridge. Here we rested on
the stones underneath. Next came the
sand bar, St. John’s bridge, and then Minster.
In approaching Minster, we
had to be careful of the Minster boys.
Sometimes we were met by hostile bands who dared us to go any
further. This rivalry of the boys
between the two towns had its origin in the public dance halls, I believe, where
it was inevitable that some of our boys should take away the girls properly
belonging to Minster boys. Of course,
there was also the problem of religion.
Happily, today we are living in a more tolerant age, with the narrow,
bigoted provincialism gone forever.
When we approached the
Amsterdam bridge on our way home, we felt near enough home to rest, tighten our
straps, tuck in our chest protectors, blow our noses, and refresh ourselves
with a cool drink from the bottom of the canal. Believe it or not, this water was good and we were none the worse
for it.
When we passed the swimming
hole and the “old boat”, we were at our journey’s end. We were never quite sure of our footing for
some hours after taking off our skates!
We got home just in time for
supper and put our feet and skates under the kitchen stove. After the supper dishes were put away and
the oil-cloth cleaned off, we would draw around the coal-oil lamp, adjust the
10¢ shade to the proper angle, and
read until 9:00 when we would crawl upstairs and go to sleep, dreaming of the
Amsterdam Bridge, Goeke’s pond, and “the bend”.
The opportunities for moonlight skating were few, but
back in 1901, our winters were not so mild and open as they are today. We would eat an early supper and get out on
the canal or the pond as soon as we could after 6:00. We would skate in pairs or in groups of four or six. With our hands inside our partner’s muff, we
would start carefully so as to get the correct stride. If you have never skated with your hands inside
your best girl’s muff – well, you have missed the sweetest of all life’s
pleasures.
With the moonlight above, the sparkle of the clear,
crystal-like ice, and snow-covered landscape, it was a delight. In the distance we could hear the merry
chimes of a sleigh bell, or see the roaring flames from the fire at “the dumps”
which was always kept going for warmth and cheerfulness, especially by the
younger boys on the ice.
Doc Everist had a boat house, which to us seemed as if
he had built it for our particular use and enjoyment during the winter. It was a most ideal shelter and a dandy
place in which to sit when putting on or taking off your skates. We boys from “Frog Town” will never forget
it. Doc never kept his boat house
locked, but it was free-for-all and we certainly took advantage of it.
Thanks are also due to the stock-holders of The Rabe
Manufacturing Co. for supplying us with polo clubs and to J.A. Long & Co.
for drying us out if an accident occurred.
It was so easy to go to their poultry house and get dried out before the
folks at home knew what it was all about and before they expected you home for
supper.
Accidents did occur, but not often. Sometimes, when they were putting up ice, we
would slip off the cakes on which we were riding, or, when we thought two or
three cakes were stuck together, lo and behold, they would separate in the most
peculiar way when our feet touched them.
As I write this, I can still envision a team of mules
coming around “the bend” afar off. In a
few minutes the bow of the boat is visible as it gently and slowly makes the
curve. The children hasten and gather
on the Plum Street swing bridge awaiting the sensation of being there when the
bridge is bumped.
The boat is now near the pond and we can see the tiny
green shutters, the wood fire smoke curling from the chimney and a woman at the
stern with the weight of her body leaning against the arm of the rudder.
The boat now approaches the bridge with a slow, steady
and even course. The planks running out
in the canal away from the bridge keep the bow of the boat in its proper course
so it will not strike the bridge amidship but to the one side and in that way
cause it to swing around on its metal track.
The boat comes nearer and nearer as we lean out over
the railing, gazing anxiously and waiting with some slight fear the impending
“shock”. At last she strikes and the
bridge begins to move. The rusty,
castor-like wheels underneath grind and screech and yawn and then move in a
semi-circle while the boat passes through on towards the lock.
Alas, the bridge does not swing all the way back,
however! We children are prisoners for
a while, but some men come and swing it back in correct alignment with the
road. Horses and wagons are waiting on
both sides to resume the course of their journey also. In a moment, all is well, the roadway is
cleared of traffic and we children hasten along the towpath to the lock to
witness another interesting episode in the life of a canal boat.
All of this has passed away, but the importance of the
canal to the community it served in its day cannot be overestimated. Our U.S. school histories told us of the
importance of the opening of the Erie Canal between Buffalo and the Hudson. What this canal was to the Great Lakes and
the Atlantic, our own Miami & Erie was to Cincinnati & Toledo.
