My Memories of “The Thoroughfare”
Submitted to the Parkway Independent by Bob Van Fleet
July 1, 2011

I never knew why it was called “the thoroughfare” but I remember it as an almost magical kind of place because it was as close to wilderness as we got in our part of Ohio, but also because I have such vivid and wonderful memories of being there with my Grandpa Van Fleet.
 

Every time I visit Rockford I go out to the bridge on 127 north of Mercer and walk west back the road for a half mile or so to a big bend in the St. Marys River where Grandpa made his camp for turtle trapping. It still looks exactly as I remember it.

Grandpa had a big army surplus wall tent which housed him, me, and usually Loren (Skinny) Loro and George Kinder. As I recall we'd be there for several days or a week (but you know how things remembered are always bigger or lasted longer than they really were). I do know that those experiences and what I learned from Grandpa at the river formed the most profound and fundamental values that have guided my life. Those experiences came while I was less than 11 years old – Grandpa died in 1957.

Part of Grandpa's life  was being a business man who owned Van Fleet's Drug Store, but it was clear that where he really “lived” was at the river. His wife, Ethel, was a very elegant, well - dressed lady who never went with Grandpa on his outdoor trips. She was not a river rat at all!

Grandpa had made snapping turtle traps out of fence and chicken wire. They were about the size of a 55 gallon oil drum and they had a cone-shaped opening at one end so turtles could swim into them but they couldn't get back out. What drew them in was a wire mesh bag of chicken heads (from Anspach's poultry plant). We'd go out in the boat both morning and evening to run the traps, take out any turtles we'd caught, and put in fresh bait. My job was to take the old bait bags up on the river bank to dump them.  After a night or so in the river they had a rather pungent fragrance! As I recall Grandpa used to put out 10 or 12 traps along a stretch of the river. The bigger turtles had shells nearly two feet in diameter and their beaks were pretty scary – they could take a big chunk out of someone's finger. Usually there would also be some painted turtles and soft shell turtles in the traps, but Grandpa would always release these back into the river. 

After checking the traps we'd come back to camp and Grandpa would butcher the turtles immediately. Of course we had no refrigeration out there, so he may have taken the meat back into town for storage. I do remember though that he had devised a cooler of sorts out of a five gallon bucket encased in sawdust inside a big cardboard box. This served as our “cooler” for camp supplies and it worked well. Grandpa was a genius when it came to “devising” things.

At night we'd go out in the boat to snare bullfrogs which would perch and make their calls along the river banks. Grandpa would shine a flashlight on them, then snare them under the “chin” with a big fish hook.

Grandpa would freeze enough turtle meat to last till the next trip the following summer. When Grandmother cooked it I remember it as one of the most delicious things I have ever eaten. Grandpa never wasted anything he killed. He once shot a ground hog which he, of course, took home and had Grandmother cook it. As I recall, its aroma while cooking was not good and I'm sure it got eaten, but Grandpa never shot another one.

Grandpa also took me on squirrel-hunting float trips through all of the thoroughfare from the 127 bridge to the Frysinger bridge just east of Rockford. Grandmother Van Fleet helped to shuttle two vehicles so we could launch at 127 and end the day with a car and trailer to take out at the Frysinger bridge.

All day we'd float slowly and quietly while Grandpa would hunt squirrels out of the oak trees along the river. There was little or no conversation that I recall on these trips, but Grandpa would impart bits of his vast knowledge about the natural world to me as we went. For a little kid these trips were more magical than Disneyland could ever be. My memories of them are as clear as if they had happened last year.

A later memory of the thoroughfare involved me and my good river rat friend, Tim Fox. We were probably in high school so this was in the early 1960's. We hauled a bunch of corrugated metal roofing back to a place near Grandpa's old camp site where we built a kind of lean-to shelter between two trees. We called it the “Sugar Shack” - remember that song? We never did much with it after it was built, but I vaguely remember spending one night there. There was snow on the ground and it was very cold!

On my last visit to Rockford a few years ago I went out to the 127 bridge and was pleased to see signs posting this area as some kind of nature preserve, thanks in part to then owner, George Wilson (father of my classmate of 1964, Carl Wilson). I hope this area will be preserved forever. I think it has shrunk somewhat as farm land has encroached, but it is still one of the biggest chunks of “wilderness” I know of in that area. Whatever becomes of “the thoroughfare”, I will always remember what it meant to a little kid being there with his Grandpa.

Editor’s Note: Thank you to Bob Van Fleet for sharing this wonderful information with the Parkway Independent readers. Send your memories to Sheila Baltzell at editor@parkwayindependent.com