Random Thoughts from a Random Memory

By Edward Master

I guess one blessing about be here at PPC is fairly simple... when visitors stop by who I have not seen for awhile to visit. I can’t include my sisters or brothers in law cause they do appear from time to time, often out of necessity to bring me supplies: M&Ms, Life Savers, assorted candy, and junk foods.

The recent class (‘67) meet at the Plaza was a God send. It sure was great seeing the faces that I haven’t seen for a year or longer. Old times, old memories. Random times, random memories.

Patty (Sheesley) Landers has emailed me about her grandkids spending time at the Clarion River (Grass Flats) swimming. How many afternoons were spent on that bridge basking in the sun? I’ve also had that same chat with Roberta Gates (Sullivan) about life at the Mickey swimming hole on Turkey Run by Alum Rock.

Mickey was unique. It was the quintessential swimming hole in Mark Twain stories. Shaded by pine trees, the water was cool and refreshing on hot summer days. We walked or biked our way from Turkey City. Kids came even from Emlenton and from Monroe, just east of TC on the hill. We got a little bit older before we moved on to the Clarion River and the Grass Flats.

I once had a B&W photo of my wife sitting with my sisters on one of the long, flat rocks exposed from years and years of erosion that was a featured attraction of that area of Turkey Run. Years later I captured Mickey in winter time, holding ice cycles galore. It was I might say... beautiful.

But the quaint swimming hole was just part of the Mickey story. And, I have no idea how Mickey got its name. Big Mickey, the actual true swimming hole, was just part of the attraction in summer. We also had Little Mickey, just a few minutes north. Little Mickey had a small water pool with a natural rock slide into the water. It was a favorite for sun bathing on the flat eroded sheets of rock.

Mike Claypoole, who lived on the Bostaff Hill road bend above Mickey, often liked to climb down the hill, climb up a tree, and drop from the swaying, hanging branch into the creek. I avoided that stunt, but Mike liked it. I did do the rock slide at Little Mickey though.

It seemed however not much ever happened out of the ordinary other than just about every summer some one killed a copperhead snake near or in the creek. We dove or jumped from the boulders that had lodged at water’s side, but that was about all. It was a popular spot for local swim time.

Summertime swimming was a progression in Turkey City. We moved from under the car bridge (where I actually learned to swim, by just watching the “big kids) to down stream under the railroad trestle. That swimming ended when a bulldozer graded the streambed smooth and filled in holes under the railroad overpass. Everyone moved to Mickey.

From Mickey we took on the Clarion River at the Grass Flats.

I never really explored other swimming holes in other venues. Once I did a rock quarry just east of Elk City. The water was cold and deep. The deeper you went the colder the water. I think Carl (Buck) Salser from Knox led us on that expedition.

I did the mouth of Toby Creek running into the Clarion River at the Toby Bridge a couple of times. The drawing card was a huge rock close to shore and the Toby Bridge. A short dip only required a few strokes to reach that boulder. The mouth of Toby was a draw for college students, too, especially in summer session.

The Grass Flats was my main connection the Clarion. I never jumped from the bridge into the river, but I saw it done. I mostly did the trapeze hanging from the bridge and just let go. Plop, splash.

If there was a drawback to swimming at the Grass Flats, the drawback was the water could get warm flowing under a hot summer’s day. You also stayed away in late afternoon when the dam was out. The river became higher and much swifter. I never was one to partake in the inner tube float to the mouth of the Clarion emptying into the Allegheny River at Foxburg.

Swimming as we did turned out to be a once in a lifetime experience for many local residents. I’m just glad it was my lifetime.