Richmond Press, Inc.                          Richmond, VA                          1938

Beloved Old Swimming Holes

Let's recall the swimming holes of Belle Isle and the shores above.

On Belle Isle the holes were Shin Break, Snake Hole, Skindeep, Little Skindeep, Sand Bottom, Head of the Island, Little Soda Water, Big Soda Water, and the Race.

Along the northern bank, above the Island, they were Dutchman's Wreck, Sandy Bottom, Cleopatra, Four Dicks and Six Gates.

But of all these places, there was none that could compare for pure delight and varied charms with Skindeep. Originally, this place had been called by the professional fishermen "Deep Skim," or sometimes "Skim Deep," because of the depth to which they had to shove their skim-nets while skimming for herring and shad. But the boys, of course, had another idea and in affectionate irony paraphrased the name into "Skindeep."

It was a deep hole among the rocks just opposite to the spring which is on the northern side of the Isle, at the foot of the hill. There was a swift stream running through a sluice at the upper end and onward through the hole; and at last running out through another sluice at the lower end. One could dive at any point from the rocks, either high or low, and of many shapes, without fear of striking the bottom.

Then there was the Devil's Ballroom, and the Devil's Kitchen, too. There was Puss Rixey's Chair, High Rock, Scuffle Rock, and all the names that boy imagination makes.

There we would go every afternoon at three o'clock and swim until supper time. Then, weary with much exercise and no sweating and in consequence tortured by the toxin of fatigue, tired but happy (it was a covered railroad bridge, with a footway at the side.) Across that and up the long ladder-like stairs by the western wall of the Tredegar Iron Works--three flights of them, very steep and very long; they seemed to us to reach half-way to the pearly gates. Then our way led along the tow-path to the overhead bridge that spanned the canal at the foot of High Street; up its stairs and across and down again; then winding along at the foot of Oregon Hill to the Boat-yard. Here we would pause and rest for a few delicious minutes by the enchanted spring. First one boy would drink and then another, until all had had their fill. A short rest, a farewell drink, and so home again. No water will ever taste as sweet as that. The spring was in the angle, or corner of the limits of the boat-yard basin, and at that point there was a small space of dry ground where the basin was silted up and covered with fine sand from the spring.

Charlie Hartmann was the best by far of the swimmers of those times. After him came Sam Ragland and then Mike Brennan and then Tip Brazile. But they were of the older group. In the younger group were: Billie Painter and Walter Mercer--Murphy D., we called him, in pure affection--and they were two mighty swimmers. Eddie Brown and Beirne Blair were also good ones, Wallace Powell was especially good, together with Jim Anderson and Fairlie Cooke, Billie Berry and dear old Sam Elliot. Others were Jeff Wallace, Harry Tucker, Lee Tanner, Jim Maxwell, Frank Gillis and Frank Baldwin. Then there were Lee Ragland, Irving Knowles, Billie Gibson (Little Billie), Frank Glasgow, George Roberts, Cary Sheppard, Iredell Jenkins, Gabe (Toofie, that is) Wortham and Sam Wortham, Juny Baker (his name was Austin Spiers Baker, but we loved to call him Juny), Leroy Duesberry, Fred Tyler and Wilmer Paine.

Then there were: Branch Frazier, Charlie McKinney, Billie Walker, Lee Baston, Frank Smith, Jim Gill, Walter Duke, Jim Patton, Lewis Frazier, Dick Berry, Price Powell, Lawrence and Berny Foster, and I know not who besides.

Just below Skindeep there was a shallow, rockbound hole called Little Skindeep, in which it was impossible for one to drown, and there the small fry would learn to swim. Among them I remember: Wythe Dobbins, Dick Duke, Otey Edwards, Wallace Marshall, Herbert Mercer--and there were many more. From that small tadpole pond they graduated into the great frogpond of Big Skindeep.

I wish I could recall all their names and visualize their faces; and I wish--how I wish!--I could see again that thronged and animated swimming place, ringed with rocks, the green (and sometimes yellow) water flowing grandly through, with bubbles on its surface, while the naked boys plunged and splashed, dived and swam, laughing, spluttering, shouting.

But we cannot live life over again. All those days of joy are gone, and forever.