Travels in Time on Mississippi River

If you were making a list of exotic and exciting places to visit, probably one of the last on your list would be New Madrid, Mo., a little community on the Mississippi River.

While it’s true that the Mississippi does flow northwest for a bit in the New Madrid area, that’s not necessarily something you can stay excited about. Especially when, as the old-time river people say, “The Ol’ Miss flows just about ever-which-a-way” most of the time.

New Madrid (here pronounced MAD-rid) has had some excitement, though. In 1811 and 1812, it was the scene of two destructive earthquakes, temblors so strong they not only knocked down houses, they raised bluffs where none had been before and created a sinkhole that the Mississippi immediately turned into a lake.

Other than that, New Madrid always has been pretty calm, except for one remarkable evening in 1985.

There are two paddle-wheelers that still offer travel adventures on a great river, the legendary Delta Queen and the newer and larger Mississippi Queen. Both provide excursions between New Orleans and either Minneapolis or Pittsburgh, or the various points in between.

In 1985, Delta Queen Steamboat Co. management, which operates both paddle-wheelers, decided that since both boats would be almost together on Independence Day, engaged in the company’s annual “Great American Steamboat Race,” it might be nice to have some sort of little celebration for the passengers.

“Why little ?” someone asked. “These are the last great paddle- wheelers in the world, doing a purely 100% American thing on the birthday of the country. Why not a big celebration?”

In the imaginations of the company executives, cogs began to turn and light bulbs began to go on.

“Why not?” one of the company executives asked. “Maybe they could put in at Hannibal, Mo., on July 4th. Honor Mark Twain at the same time.”

They checked with the captains of the two steamers.

That would be fine, the captains said, for a July 5 or 6 celebration, but neither boat would be that far up the river by July 4.

The Great American Steamboat Race, however, is not “fixed.” The Delta Queen, being older, is slower, but more maneuverable than the much larger Mississippi Queen.

The rules of the river, the currents, refueling stops and the tendency of the barge and tug-boat pilots on the river to extend a few extra courtesies to the smaller, older craft keeps the race fairly even.

Thus, the approximate location of the two steamers, at any given time, is almost predictable.

The captains worked on their charts, and checked reports on river conditions and their logs from previous races.

“We’ll be at New Madrid,” they said.

“The Mississippi Queen will be in the lead,” said her captain. “She’ll be at New Madrid, Mo., at about 4 in the afternoon on the Fourth of July.”

“Good,” the captain of the Delta Queen said, “we’ll be there waiting for you.”

After some discussion, it was agreed that there would, indeed, be a big Fourth of July celebration at New Madrid, if the people of that community were willing.

When the proposal reached New Madrid, the earth shook again. There was dancing in the streets. The excitement spread across the river to Kentucky, and a few miles south to the Tennessee and Arkansas borders.

Was New Madrid willing? There had never been an event to match it.

Plans were made. The Delta Queen Steamboat Co. would pay for half the fireworks, if New Madrid would set them off, and would pay half on the beer and soft drinks, too.

New Madrid would also provide homemade ice cream for everyone, “if you bring the cones,” the city fathers said.

The Delta Queen and the Mississippi Queen each had first-class bands and steam calliopes. There would be music. Also, stage and film actress Helen Hayes, royalty in her own right and a frequent traveler on both boats, was likely to attend.

Just about every Fourth-of-July picnic scheduled would be moved to the banks of the Mississippi. Many of the ladies of New Madrid and nearby communities would prepare costumes appropriate to the days when steamboats ruled the rivers.

The Rev. L. Glenn Pettus of Tuckerman, Ark., volunteered to dress as Abraham Lincoln to honor both the holiday and the event. The mayor took him up on it.

When the Fourth of July came, thousands converged on New Madrid--from Missouri, Kentucky, Tennessee and some even from Arkansas, 40 miles to the south. The top of the levee was lined with cars, and the banks with blankets, picnic baskets, drink coolers and picnickers, many in the costumes of the old south.

There were the usual Fourth of July events, but they couldn’t compete with what everyone was waiting for. There was electricity in the air.

The word was out that the two paddle-wheelers were running neck and neck, that they would arrive at about 5 in the evening.

At 5 p.m., people lined the river like their forefathers had when the showboat was coming. At 5:30 p.m., almost everyone was standing, looking downstream, listening and maybe harboring the quiet fear that there’d be no steamboats, no celebration and that the past was, indeed, only the past.

Just before 6 p.m., the word that the boats were “just around the bend” came at almost the same time as the blasts of their whistles. The two paddle-wheelers came into view, rounding the bend at flank speed and making smoke. Their ear-splitting steam whistles were all but lost in the cheering from the crowd.

The passengers, who on a normal day could have almost outnumbered the townspeople of New Madrid, disembarked and joined the picnickers to talk and laugh, drink beer and soda pop, eat homemade ice cream and pose for pictures.

The people, some of whom had driven great distances, toured the steamboats. New Madrid’s mayor and the Rev. Pettus, in Lincoln-type whiskers and stovepipe hat, shook every hand that was offered, as did the captains, officers and employees of both boats.

Hayes did join the party, chatted with the celebrants and posed for pictures. The Delta Queen was awarded the Commodore’s Cup as the overall race winner.

Musicians from the two boats, assembled on the Mississippi Queen’s deck, performed for the crowd. And if the patriotic songs of Independence Day sounded a little Dixieland, nobody seemed to mind.

Such favorite tunes as “Bill Bailey,” “South Rampart Street Parade” and “Basin Street Blues” were represented, and the “Saints” were marched in again and again.

When the blue of early evening was turning to black, New Madrid set off the fireworks. Some of the rockets went into the water, some into the ground and some even made it into the sky, but every effort was greeted with cheers and applause, even if there was a little laughter mixed in.

When the ice cream was finally gone, the last rocket fired and the last sparkler burned, the whistles of the Mississippi Queen and Delta Queen sounded. The passengers returned to their boats, and the gangways were raised.

The people aboard and ashore waved and shouted their goodbys as the river boats broke loose from the mud and backed away from the levees.

When the two boats leave their regular ports of call, their calliopes are played. That night, the great wheezing and whistling steam organs were played at full volume in a salute to New Madrid as the paddle-wheelers reversed their engines and moved upriver in the bright moonlight.

It wasn’t planned, and no one knows who started it, but the lights on the cars parked along the levee began going on and off. The drivers kept it up until both steamboats were out of sight and the calliope music could no longer be heard.

I heard this story from a lady who was on the Delta Queen that evening. She didn’t say she cried, but I think she probably did because her voice wasn’t that steady when she told me about it.

It’s understandable. It must have been like coming to the realization that something you thought was gone, something that was part of a distant past, still exists . . . somewhere. That if you can get to the right place at the right time, it might be just around the bend.

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For information on traveling aboard either the Mississippi Queen or Delta Queen, both operated by the Delta Queen Steamboat Co., call toll-free (800) 543-1949.