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.
By Capt. Don Sanders
Special to NKyTribune
“You ain’t no spring chicken,” my neighbor reminded me.
That’s what happened when I recently shared the possibility of a change in my health. I’m over two decades older, and that was her way of gilding her remarks. Not only was I reminded by my neighbor, but the comments of a couple of close friends also emphasized my precarious position on the timeline of eternity.
As you read this, I’m just five months from beginning my 85th journey around the Sun. Normally, matters of my personal well-being I keep within the guarded walls of my immediate family and among certain trusted friends. Until a few days ago, I had been remarkably able to conceal my cognizance of where I stand within my short allotted timespan on the earth. Fortunately, although my body, like an old boat or car, requires repairs, my mind remains as well as, or better than, ever. Thank God for small miracles.
So what does all this have to do with my writing about what I’ve so naively entitled, “The River?” I had an extensive struggle with cancer — including chemo and radiation treatments — as my oncologists still recall during my checkups. After the last three scans were cancer-free, I was looking forward to time spent in places other than doctors’ offices, hospital testing facilities, and pharmacies.
Although I am deeply grateful for the medical attention and care I’ve received and, hopefully, will continue to experience, I’ll have to postpone paddling a hand-built wooden skiff to New Orleans or riding around the Great Loop aboard my Brother Bob’s trawler — should he ever find one. I don’t need a reminder that the clock is ticking… please.
Jeez — sorry about that. I needed to explain where I stand.
Today is Mother’s Day. My mother, Anna Margaret, one of the best “river gals” I ever knew, was born in Cincinnati, but grew up in Ludlow, downriver from Covington. Although she spent the rest of her life in Covington after meeting and marrying the handsome Jesse Sanders, Jr., her heart often yearned for Ludlow and the friends and family she remembered before her mother, Bessie Lee, died unexpectedly during Mom’s senior year at Ludlow High.
Before she met my father, Anna Margaret and everyone else assumed she’d marry George, her hometown boyfriend, after graduating with the Class of ’36. She and George spent many idyllic summer days canoeing the first roller behind the side paddlewheel of the Coney Island steamer the ISLAND QUEEN.
“It was great fun,” as I often heard her tell. The canoe was always upset, throwing its occupants into the churning waters behind the grinding maul of the massive wood-and-steel paddlewheel driving one side of the steam-powered behemoth. When asked how she survived though she couldn’t swim and never wore a life vest, Mother nonchalantly replied, “Oh, I just held onto George.”
A short eighteen years after Margie and Jess exchange conjugal bonds, they wed their names together for the signboard of a stern paddlewheel houseboat named the MARJESS in their honor. Mother took to the boat like the proverbial duck to water. She transformed the former Great Miami River sternwheeler into our floating family home, basking in the refreshing evening fluvial breezes, away from the sweltering city onshore, in the days before air conditioning became a popular household necessity.
My mother, not my father, was the parent who stoked the fire for my love of the river. Dad went along with it all, realizing river life was righteous family entertainment and loved by us all.
Although my mother was the first “river mom,” other mothers eventually influenced my behavior on the boats after I left home.
Well before my first stint aboard the DELTA QUEEN, some 61 years ago this summer, Captain Mary Becker Greene, the widow of Captain Gordon C. Greene, with her sons, Tom and Chris, purchased the oil-burning, steel-hulled CAPE GIRARDEAU from the Eagle Packet Company in St. Louis in 1931 and renamed it the GORDON C. GREENE.
According to river historian and author Captain Frederick C. Way, Jr.:
“The atmosphere on board the GORDON C. GREENE was pleasant and healthy, and the operation was successful financially. Cap’n Tom and his mother were generous with invitations to ‘river fans’ who rode as guests from here to there. Hence, many youngsters who worked aboard or rode for free grew up better for the experience and opportunity. There was never anything quite like this on the rivers.”
When Greene Line Steamers, Inc. acquired the California steam sternwheeler DELTA QUEEN in 1946 and began operating her overnight in 1948, replacing the GORDON, Captain/Mrs, Greene assumed her motherly duties aboard the new steamboat, as she had on the previous Greene Line vessels. When I started working on the DELTA QUEEN in 1965, Captain Mary Becker Greene’s daughter-in-law, Mrs. Letha C. Greene, widow of Capt. Tom Greene, Cap’n Mary’s oldest son, handled the business side and sometimes the motherly role while overseeing the Greene Line.
Another “steamboat mother” who touched many lives was the wife of the legendary steamboat coal fireman, Robert “Preacher” Lollar. Mrs. Rollie Mae Lollar, a compassionate woman with extraordinary cooking abilities perfected over an oil-fired, cast-iron cookstove, often acted as a surrogate mother figure to many homesick crew members aboard the AVALON.
Captain Clark C. “Doc” Hawley recounted the time an errant possum mistakenly sought solace in the AVALON’s firebox as the boat lay tied to shore somewhere along the Lower Mississippi River:
“Fireman Preacher Lollar, seeing the critter running loose in his boiler space, fatally swatted the possum with a hefty blow of a coal shovel, sending it to wherever opossums go after their lights are finally out. Not wanting to waste a freshly-killed creature known for its succulent tasting meat once prepared by a knowing master of specialized culinary arts, Preacher skinned and gutted the ill-fated marsupial before carrying it to the cookhouse where his wife, Rollie Mae, held court.
With no one but the crew aboard, Mrs. Lollar steadily prepared the possum by repeatedly boiling the carcass with peeled white potatoes. After each batch of spuds had boiled for a long time, she drained the water and discarded it, then boiled another batch. The starchy potatoes removed certain disagreeable-tasting flavors from the possum meat, making it more palatable to those who favor such dishes.
After a while, the aroma of the freshly stewed meat wafted throughout the steamboat. Before long, band members practicing on the dance floor above began showing up at the wooden picnic tables between the cookhouse and the engineroom. ‘Do I smell possum cookin’? Oh, that reminds me of my Aunt Clara’s,” one bandsman remarked. Before long, several members of the Rhythm Masters Orchestra joined Mrs. Lollar and reminisced about how long it had been since they last enjoyed boiled possum and sweet, buttered yams — ‘just like home,’ all agreed.”
When I returned to the DELTA QUEEN soon after the Great Steamboat Race of 1978, the boat boasted a motivated, diverse crew, ready, willing, and capable of performing their various duties while aware of their unique employment opportunity: crewing the venerable steamer. As my return had more to do with brushing up on “big boat experiences” for a proposed project outside the QUEEN than with resuming long-term employment, I became, in a sense, an intrepid observer of the crew serving the boat.
It didn’t take long to notice an exceptional married couple on the crew. In the engineroom, Pete Feilhauer, a man of extraordinary mechanical skill, assisted the Chief Engineer and his staff. On the Sun Deck, Pete’s wife, Catherine “Louise” Feilhauer, reigned supreme as the housekeeper on that topmost deck. When I was the First Mate and Alternate Master of the DELTA QUEEN in the early 1970s, Mrs. Ida Mae Farrell managed the housekeeping affairs on the Sun Deck since the QUEEN first came out in 1948.
Immediately, I understood that Louise Feilhauer was more than just a maid on the boat. Louise, 55 that year, was the “Mother Superior” of the DELTA QUEEN, as someone aptly put it. The younger crewmen and women admired Louisie and sought her advice and counseling whenever necessary. She was also ready to give a stern eye or a quick word to anyone who needed motherly direction if they veered off the path of socially acceptable behavior.
Louise lived until she was 97 and outlived her husband by several years. Both Feilhauers are fondly remembered by those fortunate enough to have served with them on the river.
Honor your mom wherever she may be on Mother’s Day today, and remember her every day. Each day is a gift, and life is short. So count your blessings.
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.