For years I’ve been going to the park on the Ohio side of old Lock & Dam 27 near Proctorville, Ohio. I’ve looked at the old duplex houses on the site, and I’ve parked my vehicles in the parking area where the old dam’s powerhouse stood.
Last weekend, for the first time I noticed the sidewalk and steps leading down from the houses to the powerhouse area. I don’t know why I’d never noticed them before. They are close to the road, so I was probably focusing more on oncoming traffic, if any, than visually scanning the residence area. But last weekend I noticed the steps, and as usual it got me to wondering.
How many people walked down that sidewalk while the dam was in operation? Construction began in 1918, and the dam went into operation on July 23, 1923. Operations ceased in or about 1961 when the Greenup Locks and Dam raised its pool, so people must have used that strip of concrete for maybe 40 years — and it’s been 62 years since it was needed.
Lock and Dam 27 was one of a series of small Ohio River navigation dams that were authorized by the Rivers and Harbors Act of 1909 to provide a nine-foot navigation channel for the entire length of the Ohio River, thus making the river navigable even in times of drought.
The river was once described as being a mile wide (in flood season) and a foot deep (in summer). While the old packet boats were said to be able to float on a heavy dew, that was not enough for boats pushing barges.
From what I’ve read, the duplex houses at the dams were occupied by the lockmaster and assistant lockmaster. Other workers lived nearby and commuted.
The old dams were nowhere as big as the modern ones such as the Greenup Locks and Dam. Greenup raises the river level by 30 feet at normal summer pool levels, from 485 feet above mean sea level to 515 feet. The drop in elevation going from the pool above Dam 27 to the pool below was 6.4 feet. Modern barges are loaded to about nine feet. Lock and Dam 27 used huge wood-and-steel members called wickets to hold back the river. The wickets were raised to hold back water when needed and were dropped to the river bed when they weren’t. When the wickets were down, boats could pass over them in a section known as the navigable pass.
Upon discovering that sidewalk, I had to walk it for myself. As I did, I thought about the men who had the sometimes-dangerous job of raising the dam’s wickets, even in icy winter weather. Did their wives bring them meals while they worked? Did they use lunch pails similar to those used by underground coal miners of that era? Or maybe they walked up to their homes to eat something before going back to work. How many children used that path down to the powerhouse, and then the steps down to the river to the esplanade where they could get closeup views of the paddlewheel boats in the locks?
The park there is one of my favorite sites along the Ohio River — Pittsburgh to Cairo. It’s what a riverside park can be — a blend of history, nature and even isolation in the midst of suburban sprawl.
As far as I know, no one is planning any sort of centennial celebration of Lock & Dam 27 on or near Sunday, July 23, so I’ll declare it myself.
Happy 100th, Lock and Dam 27.
Jim Ross is development and opinion editor of The Herald-Dispatch. His email address is jross@hdmediallc.com.
