Ken Steinhoff, Author at Cape Girardeau History and Photos

July 9, 2011September 22, 2011

Hard Work, Sunsets and UFOs

Brother Mark reminded me – nagged me might be a better word – that we should go over to Kentucky Lake and do some work on Mother’s trailer. She hadn’t been over there this season after having a major plumbing overhaul done last fall, and we needed to see if the plumbing leaked (it did). Some soft spots had developed in the floor over the years, the worst one being by the door leading to the kitchen. It wasn’t dangerous for mother yet because she barely weighs her age (90 in October of this year), but not all of us are that light.

My adage is “Never look beneath the skin of an old structure. Nothing good is ever found there.” Mark, who must have been watching a lot of hospital movies, didn’t hesitate. He took the scalpel and made the first cut into the carpet. It didn’t look good. Not knowing how trailers are constructed, I was afraid we’d be replacing a big chunk of floor before we got to the good stuff.

As it turned out, it WASN’T that bad. I’m proud to say that the ancient piece of plywood I cut fit the hole on the first try. The best part is that there are no blood splatters on it. There were many summers that a trip to the emergency room was part of the entertainment.

Click on any frame to make it larger.

Plywood brought back bad memories

That plywood brought back some bad memories, though, of the summer I worked for Dad as a laborer.

One of the least favorite tasks was unloading truckloads of those 4×8-foot, 3/4″ plywood sheets that had been used as concrete forms. They had been sprayed with “form oil,” which was designed to keep the concrete from sticking to the plywood. It soaked into the wood and made it super heavy, not to mention awful to handle. Where the concrete HAD stuck to the wood, you had to take a wire brush and get it all off. After that, you used corks to fill the holes drilled into the wood to tie the forms together. The sheet was then drenched in form oil and stacked, usually onto shelving that was above my head.

Here’s what happened on a date night after a day of humping plywood forms.

When I looked at this piece of plywood, I wondered if I was the guy who had driven the corks that were still sticking in it.

Close call turns into firewood

Just before leaving, Mark and Mother talked with our neighbor who was chopping up a tree for firewood. It had narrowly missed hitting Mother’s trailer when one of the spring storms blew through.

Dead Skunk on Ky 121

By the time we got something to eat (we had planned on the Catfish Kitchen, but there was a 40-minute wait), it was getting dusk. As we were heading back across a nearly deserted Kentucky 121, I liked the way the road looked. I didn’t know the dark object on the fog line was a skunk until we got a whiff of it. I’ve shot some photos that were stinkers, but I’m pretty sure this one smells for real.

Sunset kept playing hide and seek

We were heading almost directly in a big, beautiful sunset, but every time I’d raise the camera, either we’d meet a car or a tree would block the shot. Finally, I fell back on my old saying, “Some days you make photographs; some days you settle for memories.” This one is somewhere in between.

Cairo at night

It had just turned Dark O’Clock when we crossed over the Ohio River into Illinois. I told my passengers that I had never photographed Cairo at night. (That’s not exactly correct. I DID shoot the riots there in July of 1967, but it’s not quite the same thing.)

Mother, of course, used her standard line, “Aren’t you afraid somebody is going to knock you over the head?”

“No, Mother, I’m not afraid someone is going to knock me over the head. Somebody has to BE here to knock you over the head. Do you see anyone standing around waiting for a van with a Florida photographer in it to pull up so they can knock him over the head?” There were so few people out that even the mosquitoes had died of starvation.

UFOs over downtown

The streets were dark except for patches of light from streetlights, so it was hard to tell what I was shooting. When I looked at the camera display after taking the photo, I noticed a staggered row of lights in the sky. My first thought was that they were on the Ohio River bridge. When I got home, I had the lights show up in various places in 15 frames. Interestingly enough, similar ghost lights showed up faintly when I turned 180 degrees to shoot north on the street.

I’m open to speculation, but I’m going to say what some folks would claim as unidentified flying objects were some kind of internal reflections in the camera lens elements brought about by the bright streetlights contrasting with the dark sky.

Cairo Elks Club

The only sign of life on the east side of the main drag was at the Cairo Elks Club. The neon Elks sign, the Flag and the streetlight made a nice combination. The moon up and to the right of the street light was an added bonus. I’d like to say I saw it, but I was so busy trying to get the right exposure and to wait for the wind to riffle the flag that I didn’t notice it.

P.S. Nobody got knocked over the head.

July 7, 2011September 22, 2011

Jackson High School Aerials

I was doing some grave searching in the Jackson Cemetery the other day when I noticed how much had been added on to the Jackson High School across the street. I’ll have current photos soon, but here are some aerials of the area I shot in the mid to late-1960s. You can click on any image to make it larger.

This frame is looking to the north.Hubble Creek is on the left, the County Courthouse and downtown is at top right. Jackson Cemetery on on the lower right. I see people lined up on the football sidelines, so something must be going on. There are also people on the playing field at the bottom right.

Looking east

This photo is taken from the west, looking east. Highway 61 is on the right. The County Courthouse is center left, and the Hwy 25 – 61 intersection is at top right. There’s a junk yard at the bottom right. (I guess it would be called a salvage yard these days.)

Looking southwest

West Jefferson Street is to the right of the stadium. Hubble Creek runs diagonally across the top of the frame, passing by the junk yard and under Hwy 61. Almost all of the area to the left of the stadium has been turned into parking these days. The houses in front of the high school have also been converted to parking. [Personal rant: the next time you complain about the cost of bicycle facilities, ask yourself what it costs to pave over acres of ground for parking lots.]

View to the south

The final view is looking to the south. Hubble Creek is on the right and Hwy 62 runs across the frame at the top. The footbridge across Hubble Creek has been replaced by an extension of West Jefferson if I’m reading Google Maps correctly.

The last time I flew over Jackson, I took lots of photos of downtown and the courthouse, but didn’t think to make a pass over the high school. I’ll be running photos of it from the ground in the next day or so. It’s amazing how it’s grown.

July 6, 2011November 25, 2011

Franklin School Construction

I wrote a little about the history of Franklin, the school with no name, back in March of last year. At that time, Cape voters hadn’t been to the polls yet to decide whether or not to tear down Franklin and build a new school. The issue passed and the old building’s days are numbered.

The plan is to construct the new school building, then tear down the old one. The area was fenced and the gates locked, so I had to shoot everything through and over a chainlink fence.

Franklin flag pole

It’s striking how similar the flag pole is to the one that used to be on Washington School.

Washington School flag pole base

Here’s a link to photos of Washington School before and after it was razed.

Franklin School Photo gallery

Here are photos of the old school and the construction going on behind it. Click on any image to make it larger, then click on the left or right side to move through the gallery.

July 6, 2011November 1, 2023

Video Crew in Cairo

Early in June I after I had written about Cairo, I received this comment from Beth Pacunas of Bettyrocks, a video production company:

“I am grateful to have stumbled upon your web site. Thank you for your beautiful photographs of Cairo. I fell in love with the town several years ago when I was there to work, and I have returned several times since to walk the streets, eat in the diner downtown, sit by the river. As a documentary filmmaker, and a myriad of other more important reasons, I am drawn to Cairo and it’s complicated story–past and present. There is a heartbeat there that refuses to silence as proven lately with the decision to save the town by blowing the levees.

I want to re-visit Cairo in July to begin this documentary that I have long dreamed about, and would very much like to speak with you prior to that. Please contact me at your earliest. Thank you.”

Beth Pacunas of Bettyrocks

Beth was honest upfront that they were shooting this as an independent project and hoping that they would find a way to make it financially rewarding. “I do not have any money at this point in time. That said, if I do get money we can outline the terms in this agreement. I really would like to use your photographs. The are beautiful in a tragic way, like an oil painting of war.”

Here’s a woman who knows how to blow in a photographer’s ear. Appeal to the ego, not the pocketbook.

Stace England was the convincer

In one of our early exchanges, I sent her a bunch of links that I thought would help her in her research, but I told her all she needed to do to understand Cairo was listen to Stace England’s songs on Greetings from Cairo Illinois.

It’s one of my listened-to CDs. Great variety of music that starts before the Civil War and General Grant’s visit, goes through the days of lynchings, the Civil Rights movement, the riots of the 60s and the decline of a once-vibrant city.

One song, The North Starts In Cairo, tells how the curtain that segregated whites and blacks on the buses coming out of the Jim Crow Southern states would come down as soon as they crossed the Ohio out of Kentucky. That surprised me. I had always considered Cairo to be as Southern as Alabama, something that has contributed to its demise.

When Beth told me that she had persuaded Stace to show up on Monday, I told her I’d be there. I wish I could have spent more time with him. He’s a genuinely nice guy.

Craig Rice and I connected

Actually, it was a literal connection. They decided to do a walk ‘n’ talk interview with me meandering through the town to find out what I’m thinking when I’m shooting.

They were using fairly low-tech equipment with a wired mike instead of a wireless, so Craig Rice and I were joined by a cable that kept me on a fairly short leash. Wife Lila will tell you that I’m a fast walker, so I got yanked back short a number of times.

Photographer shooting photographer

I was explaining to them how there are a lot of places where the building has been knocked down, but a tile floor might be left behind and that I still have a tiny piece of blue tile from this floor as a souvenir.

How did the interview go?

When they had all they could stand, Beth said, kindly, “Well, at least I didn’t have to ask you any questions.” I think that was a diplomatic way of saying I kept up a running monologue and didn’t give her an opportunity to ask any.

Jackson Liong grew up in Cairo

After finishing with me, they interviewed Jackson Liong, a young architect who came from the Philippines with his family. He lived in this small white building that had once been a doctor’s office.

He remembers when there was a Coke bottling plant at the west end of his street that produced so much traffic that there was a traffic signal where it intersected with the main drag. That and a second traffic signal a few blocks away caused drivers’ ed classes from some of the smaller towns to come all the way to Cairo so their students could experience a traffic light. There are no traffic lights in Cairo today.

When Jackson left for college and his family moved to California, Jackson’s uncle, who owned the house, turned the keys over to the city. He and I wondered why a house that was good enough to live in hadn’t been turned into a rental property or sold by the city to generate revenue. As it is, it’s being eaten by one of the largest poison ivy plants I’ve ever seen.

Zero tolerance for speeding

Crew member Tony Gerard, Jackson and I were reminiscing about how Cairo had a reputation for being a speed trap. Dad always told me that the speed limit in Cairo is 30 miles per hour, not 31.

Tony said that he read somewhere that Alexander County was the only county in the state that depended on traffic fines to meet its city payroll. Ironically, the city is so poor today that there have been times when the police department couldn’t buy gas for their cruisers. In fact, some of the cars are even provided by outside agencies.

Part of the problem, Jackson said, is that Cairo has an infrastructure that was built to support a population of 20,000; with about 2,000 people living in the town, there isn’t enough of a tax base to pay for public services.

House hides its eyes

While Bettyrocks was shooting Jackson, I turned to this house across the street. I liked the dark foliage framing the house and the way the the windows looked like they were winking at me. It wasn’t until I saw it on my computer screen that I noticed the tendrils of vine that look like bony fingers trying to cover its eyes.

Catfish at a BBQ joint?

The only place open for lunch was Shemwell’s BBQ. (Actually, there are only about three places in town to eat when it’s NOT a holiday.)

I’ve had many a barbecue sandwich in there over the years, but I was pleasantly surprised to see a sign offering catfish. After being assured by the server that the fish was good and that I wouldn’t choke on a bone (“My family will sue the owner if that happens, but I’ll haunt YOU for serving it to me.”), I gave it a try. I’ll never order barbecue there again. The catfish was great.

We’d been dodging rain all morning, but the sun was shining bright when we left Shemwell’s. As soon as I pulled out of the parking lot, this house grabbed me. I could have gone home right there and considered the day a photographic success. I love the vibrant colors and the abandoned car with the broken windows.

61 feet, point 72 inches

After leaving the Bettyrocks folks, I futzed around updating what’s left of downtown. The Ohio’s down enough that the floodgates are open and you can drive on the riverfront. Someone marked the high water mark on the floodwall.

It crested on May 2, 2011, at 61.72 feet. On the other floodwall opening, there are marks for other crests. The Grandaddy of them all had been the 1937 flood, which had reached 59.5 feet.

The sinkholes that ate Cairo

All of the pressure from those flood waters opened up sinkholes in Commercial Avenue. I’m no hydrologist, but I bet Cairo came very close to a boil or blowout that would have filled the town like a bathtub when the sewer backs up.

The spirit of the building is escaping

I paused with the crew when some movement in the broken window caught my attention. Wasps were swarming in and out of the building. Going off on a tangent that would have made my fine arts profs proud, I said that Cairo is a town of subtraction: that every time I come back, there’s a little less left. “Even the buildings look like the spirits are escaping them.”

Flag on The Fourth

With that thought, let’s move on to a gallery of photos taken on the Fourth of July. It dawns on me that except for the film crew, the folks being interviewed and a handful of people in Shemwell’s, I don’t think I spoke to but two people in the whole town. I walked the length of Commercial Ave. twice for about two hours and didn’t see a soul to talk with. There was one shirtless guy on a park bench, but he was about 100 yards away, so I’m not counting him.

I don’t know if I’m to go back to Cairo. I’m beginning to feel like a ghoul. The pictures are all starting to look the same to me. I don’t know what more I can add.