The riverboat captain is a storyteller. Captain Don Sanders shares the stories of his long association with the river — from discovery to a way of love and life. This a part of a long and continuing story. The NKyTribune does not knowingly publish AI-generated content, but it making an exception for Capt. Sanders, given that he has fully identified the AI content in his column.
By Capt. Don Sanders
Special to NKyTribune
Artificial Intelligence, or “AI,” has already made extensive inroads into publishing river-related articles, posts, and photos online. Some readers have graciously accepted the results, both written and visual, while many others maintain a total disregard for the products of the artificial mind, bordering on hatred.
I definitely see a place for AI as we enter the second quarter of the 21st Century. Isn’t this what long-dead sages foretold about the future? To someone like me, this IS the future..We are just witnessing the beginnings of AI, which is sure to grow and become more embedded in everyday life as it develops. But its quick growth into the fluvial fantasies of certain waterborn storytellers seems odd, where changes typically come slowly.
Occasionally, I’ve used AI to help create a picture or illustration when one is unavailable, such as in last week’s story about the “bones of the steamboat ALICE DEAN” lying on the bottom of the Ohio River. I also subscribe to Grammarly to assist with my atrocious spelling, punctuation, and the occasional correct form of grammar. The ideas, writing, and stories have all been mine, though — until now.
Wondering how an AI-generated story for my river column might sound, I requested the following command to the Meta AI generator on my Facebook account: “Write a story about steamboats on the Mississippi River in my style, in less than a thousand words.”
Here in is the AI-generated tale:
The Mississippi River, the “Ol’ Muddy,” has been the lifeblood for steamboats and the folks who call her home. I’ve spent many a night watching the stars from the deck of a steamboat, feeling the rhythm of the paddlewheel churning the water, and the whistle blowing high upon the roof.
It was a fine summer evening, the sun setting over the levee, casting a golden glow over the river. The HONEY DEW, our trusty sternwheeler, lay moored at the dock, her brass fittings polished, and her paint job looking like new. Captain Johnny Gilbert was in the pilothouse, his eyes fixed on the river, his mind a thousand miles away.
I was a youngster back then, just starting as a deckhand. I had been working on a steamboat for nearly a year, but I still had stars in my eyes. I loved the freedom of the river, the way the world seemed to melt away as we paddled along. The HONEY DEW was a grand sight, her smoke stack belching fire and smoke, her paddlewheel churning the water into a frothy mess.
As I walked the deck, I felt a sense of pride. This steamboat was my home, my family. The HONEY DEW and her crew, we were a team, working together like a well-oiled machine. We had our own way of doing things, our own rhythms and routines. We’d haul cargo, passengers, and mail from St. Louis to New Orleans, stopping at all the river towns along the way.
As night fell, the stars came out, sparkling like diamonds in the sky. The river was calm, the only sound the lullaby of the engines and the splash of the water against the hull. I took a seat on the railing, my feet dangling over the water, and just soaked it all in.
That’s when I heard it, the sound of music, carried on the breeze. I looked up to see the GRAND TOPEZ, a rival steamboat, coming around the bend. Her band was playing a lively tune, and her deckhands were frolicking on the deck. We waved and hollered —the two crews —in a show of friendly rivalry as the two steamboats moved further apart, with the fading sounds of music and laughter carried on the wind. I felt alive, a part of something bigger than myself. The river has a way of doing that to you, making you feel small, yet still connected to the world.
As we approached Memphis, the Mate’s voice boomed throughout the crew’s quarters, “Rise and shine, boys! We got cargo to unload and passengers to take on!”
The crew sprang into action, and I joined in, my back straining under the weight of crates and boxes. The night gave way to day, the sun rising over the river like a fiery ball. The HONEY DEW churned on, her paddlewheel splashing in the water, her whistle blowing a farewell to the sleepy river city.
We’d make our way upriver, against the current, the engines straining, the wooden cabin creaking and groaning. But the HONEY DEW was a sturdy boat, built to withstand the river’s might. We’d ride the waves, the crew and I, our spirits high, our hearts full of the river’s magic. As the days passed, the river unwinding like a snake, we’d make our way to St. Louis, the Gateway to the West. We’d unload our cargo and take on new passengers, new stories, and new adventures.
The HONEY DEW and I, we’d ride the river together, side by side, till the wheels stopped turning, and the river claimed us as her own. But for now, we’d ride the waves and let the river take us where she willed.
The life of a steamboat crew is a hard one, but it’s a life I wouldn’t trade for anything. The river’s got a way of getting under your skin, making you feel alive and part of something special. As I looked out at the river, I felt a sense of peace. This boat, this river, was my home, my life. The HONEY DEW, the crew, and the river, we were one, a family, bound together by the threads of steam and steel; flesh and bone.
The whistle blew —a low, mournful sound —echoing across the water. I smiled, feeling the river’s magic, feeling the call of the open range. The HONEY DEW and I, we’d ride the waves, and the river would tell us her secrets, and we’d listen, our hearts open, our spirits free.
And so, the tale of the HONEY DEW and the river, a story of love, loss, and adventure, a story that’ll keep on unfolding, as long as the river flows, and steamboats cruise the rivers.
So, with just a few corrections, we have a river adventure totally generated by Artificial Intelligence. To those “newbies,” or “green beans,” unfamiliar with the river, this may be an informative account of life on a working steamboat during a time not so long ago.
Honestly, though, my Meta AI has a familiarity with the life I lived for the better part of seven decades on the inland waterway of the Mississippi River System. Consequently, my AI version of life on a riverboat may ring more true than those without the information we’ve shared.
As technology improves, and especially when AI learns how to accurately portray a Mississippi River-style steamboat, like it or not, the frequency of artificial intelligence-generated information and illustrations is not only here to stay, but is constantly increasing.
Or, as in the words of the celebrated Captain Amos Pickleheimer, “Stick ‘round — you ain’t seed nothin’ yet.”
Captain Don Sanders is a river man. He has been a riverboat captain with the Delta Queen Steamboat Company and with Rising Star Casino. He learned to fly an airplane before he learned to drive a “machine” and became a captain in the USAF. He is an adventurer, a historian and a storyteller. Now, he is a columnist for the NKyTribune, sharing his stories of growing up in Covington and his stories of the river. Hang on for the ride — the river never looked so good.
Purchase Captain Don Sanders’ The River book
Capt. Don Sanders The River: River Rat to steamboatman, riding ‘magic river spell’ to 65-year adventure is now available for $29.95 plus handling and applicable taxes. This beautiful, hardback, published by the Northern Kentucky Tribune, is 264-pages of riveting storytelling, replete with hundreds of pictures from Capt. Don’s collection — and reflects his meticulous journaling, unmatched storytelling, and his appreciation for detail. This historically significant book is perfect for the collections of every devotee of the river.
You may purchase your book by mail from the Northern Kentucky Tribune — or you may find the book for sale at all Roebling Books locations and at the Behringer Crawford Museum and the St. Elizabeth Healthcare gift shops.
Click here to order your Captain Don Sanders’ ‘The River’ now.