I’ve always enjoyed the Queen City of Cincinnati but during our recent whirlwind vacation in the midwest I gained even more respect for the place. Barbara, my mom, and I spent two nights in Cincinnati for Barbara’s Smith-Thompson family reunion and we had a wonderful time. When I was growing up in Indianapolis and even thru the early years of our marriage I can recall a few trips over to visit Cincinnati’s amazing Zoo, and trips to Kings Island, and Coney Island amusement parks as well. Great memories! I loved Cincy’s hills compared to my home town’s flat landscape, and their location on the beautiful Ohio River was pretty cool. So we’ve had some great reasons to like Cincinnati.
Since 2004 the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center has been open. This museum sits on the riverfront downtown, tucked up close to the Great American Ballpark (home of the Cincinnati Reds major league baseball team). As part of the family reunion our family group took a tour of the center – OMG! The center was so impressive and I loved every minute of our time there. I learned so much more about the battle against slavery. First and foremost (but it should have been obvious) I learned that Cincy was a major stop on the underground railroad, a place of refuge for fleeing slaves on their run to freedom in the North. I guess that I had forgotten that Kentucky was a slave state, and Ohio was not. The Ohio River represented both a dividing line, and a huge obstacle for getting to freedom. According to legend, and according to the center’s movie produced by Oprah Winfrey we learned about two key Ohio players in the freedom movement – John Parker (a former slave), and Rev. John Rankin (a white man). These two people played a huge role in providing the means to getting across the mighty Ohio River, and providing places to hide and refresh. So now, after learning so much about what took place, it helps me understand even more an incident that took place back in the early 1980′s in Cincinnati.
I went to my only Cincinnati Reds baseball game with a friend from Indy. It was a night game. We were having a great time enjoying the game (Houston Astros versus Cincinnati), enjoying the hot dogs (hot dogs taste so much better at a baseball game don’t they?), and enjoying the atmosphere. After about the 6th inning some guys arrived and sat two rows behind us and proceeded to fill the air with vulgar conversations. Unfortunately they had been enjoying some adult beverages way too much (they doesn’t happen much at pro sports venues does it?). The pitcher for Houston that night was Joe Niekro. One of the drunken idiots thought it would be cute to yell out the following, and I remember it well,…”Niekro,…Negro,…Nigger! I hate Niggers!”
My friend and I were stunned of course. My friend was white. We looked at each other, and then I looked back at the idiots. There was five of them, and just the two of us. I didn’t necessarily notice anyone else in the crowd who looked like they wanted any part of the idiots. In my mind at the time I wanted to yell some “meaningful” things back at them but somehow, some way God helped me make a much better decision – my friend and I got up and left (very quickly I might add for fear that the idiots would pursue us). As we left the area one of the idiots yelled, “and I hate Nigger lovers too!” Long story short – we made the best decision at the time. Our ride home to Indianapolis was a little more quiet than we expected. Neither of us knew what to say. My friend was apologetic about what happened.
Now I understand a little more what all was at play back then in 1980 and probably even now. Cincinnati and Kentucky are tied very closely when it comes to history, race relations, and the freedom movement. Those ties obviously puts people on opposite sides so to speak when it comes to heritage. Ironically Barbara and I have had some great memories in the state (Mammoth Caves for example). When we had the family reunion formal dinner later that day it was in nearby Newport Kentucky on the 19th floor of a building high above the Ohio River. As we prepared for dinner I looked out upon the river, and the lovely skyline of Cincinnati and thought about the things I had learned at the Freedom Center. I thought about the fleeing slaves having to get across that river with bounty hunters on their tails. I thought about the freedom that the high hills of Cincy represented (Reverend Rankin’s house sat up on one of those hills). I’m so thankful that there were good people in Cincy who risked their lives to help get those fleeing slaves to freedom. And I’m thankful that places like the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center exist and they continue to tell generations of people what once was the situation. We can’t forget the sacrifice that many made to allow us the freedoms we enjoy today no matter our race.
I bet those drunken idiots at that game long ago were from Kentucky 
