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The River: Quick-thinking, bravery saved all lives the day Captain Betty turned turtle in the churning water


The riverboat captain is a storyteller, and Captain Don Sanders will be sharing the stories of his long association with the river — from discovery to a way of love and life. This a part of a long and continuing story.

By Captain Don Sanders
Special to NKyTribune

At 9:30 p.m., Saturday, 13 June 1970, Captain Albert S. Kelley tugged on the cord, sounding the whistle signaling a landing for the DELTA QUEEN at Cox Park, above downtown Louisville and the Falls of the Ohio River. However, Pilot Kelley relied on the aid of Captain Ernest E. Wagner, the QUEEN’s Master, who stood on the starboard wing bridge barking orders to the pilot and the mate on the bow below. Although traditionally, the DELTA QUEEN pulled in at the aged steamboat landing at the foot of 4th Street, with the cobblestone levee tore apart for “modernizing” that would forever change the look of the Falls City waterfront, the boat landed at Cox Park, instead.

Pilot Kelley relied on the aid of Captain Ernest E. Wagner, the QUEEN’s Master, who stood on the starboard wing bridge barking orders to the pilot and the mate on the bow below.

At 12:30 a.m., Sunday, 14 June 1970, a half-hour past watch change, Captain Harry Louden backed the boat away from the park and aimed her nose for Madison, Indiana, some 41 miles upriver. 

By 6 a.m., Captain Harry’s Log Book entry noted: “Landed Madison. Sunny & Warm.” The DELTA QUEEN lay tied to the Indiana shore for eleven hours while passengers toured the rustic river town. As acting First Mate, I ensured my crew topped off the potable water tanks, and all the garbage and trash were removed from the vessel and loaded into the 20-yard container parked on the landing. A month later, I would test for and be awarded my Unlimited Inland Mate’s License. Meanwhile, I stood the Mate’s watch opposite Captain Wagner with another certified officer “carrying the license” while I performed the necessary labor.

Captain Wagner was certainly proud of the rather fancy outboard he christened the CAPTAIN BETTY for Ms. Betty Blake, Wagner’s longtime friend, and co-worker.

On the bow of the DELTA QUEEN, we transported a white Volkswagen “bug” and a new addition, an outboard motorboat resting on a trailer. Normally, the U. S. Coast Guard had stern restrictions prohibiting the use of flammable gasoline aboard the wooden passenger boat. Still, in this one exception, they permitted the gasoline outboard engine as long as the gas was inside the tank. No other volatile gasoline was allowed anywhere else on the QUEEN.

Captain Wagner was certainly proud of the rather fancy outboard he christened the CAPTAIN BETTY for Ms. Betty Blake, Wagner’s longtime friend and co-worker who also happened to be the Vice President and General Manager of the Greene Line Steamers, Inc., the parent company for the DELTA QUEEN.

“Cap’n Betty,” the woman, not the boat, started her steamboating career in the same way as did Captain Wagner and several members of the crew, myself included, aboard the excursion steamboat, the Steamer AVALON. After the AVALON ceased operating following the 1961 Season, the steamer was bought by the City of Louisville and Jefferson County, Kentucky, where it still operates, today, as the BELLE OF LOUISVILLE some 51 years after the setting of this tale and in its 107th year of operation.

Terry pulled his weight when it came to steamboat chores as seen here with Robert “Bob” Sikes, another Vietnam combat veteran. 1970.

By 3 p.m., Captain Wagner had me round up my deckhands to hand-pull the CAPTAIN BETTY across the 55-foot, four-ton Landing stage onto shore and carefully launch it into the Ohio River. Cap said that Mr. William “Bill” Muster, President of the Greene Line, wanted to use the motorboat to carry a small group of professional photographers alongside the DELTA QUEEN so they could photograph the steamboat after we got away at 5 p.m. Mr. Muster, himself, quite a photo-taker, seemed pleased to accompany several notable representatives of the press corp on the photoshoot aboard the CAP’N BETTY boat.

“Who ya got to run this thing?” Captain Wagner asked soon as the motorboat was afloat. I sure didn’t want to be out there in the little boat on such a beautiful, sunny Sunday when the river at Madison was alive with pleasure boats tearing up the river and swarming around the DELTA QUEEN like angry wasps. But, at that moment, one of my most talented deckhands, Terry Wissman, spoke up, “I can handle that boat, Cap.”

Wissman came on board at Cincinnati about a month earlier. Not long before Terry signed up as a deckhand on the DELTA QUEEN, he was a U. S. Marine fighting in the jungles of Vietnam. Lean, wiry, and always fun, towheaded Terry pulled his weight when it came to steamboat chores. Terry owned a Harley Scrambler motorcycle, and he asked Captain Wagner for permission to bring it aboard. The Captain had been a biker in his youth and rode around the country on a classic Indian cycle during the off-season when he wasn’t the Chief Mate aboard the sidewheel steamer ISLAND QUEEN. Cap rode Terry’s Scrambler a time or two, but mostly he enjoyed watching the eager deckhand make the frisky bike do everything but fly for an extended length of time.

Captain Louden responded with a traditional landing whistle —  “One Long and Two Shorts” followed by another “Long and One Short” blasts on the three-chimed, Lunkenheimer steam-powered apparatus.

The Captain was more than satisfied when the former Marine-motorcyclist-deckhand volunteered to take charge of the CAPTAIN BETTY… and so was I.

As Captain Wagner was up for the launch of the BETTY (remember, we worked opposite watches), he rang the nine strokes on the DELTA QUEEN’S magnificent bronze bell, announcing the departure of the steamboat in another 20 minutes. Inside the pilothouse, Captain Louden responded with a traditional landing whistle —  “One Long and Two Shorts” followed by another “Long and One Short” blasts on the three-chimed, Lunkenheimer steam-powered apparatus. Captain Wagner stood by on the wing bridge while I remained on the bow until the QUEEN backed away from the Madison landing and continued upstream.  Once the deck was squared away and I entered the wheelhouse, the Skipper was already on his way below for dinner. Cap’n Louden logged the leaving as: “Departed Madison, IND. 5:10 PM.”

With the DELTA QUEEN proceeding toward Cincinnati, I kept an eye on the CAPTAIN BETTY speeding all around us to obtain every angle possible for the photographers crowding the small but nimble, runabout. The presence of the DELTA QUEEN was like a powerful magnetic force attracting hordes of pleasure boats of all sizes, shapes, and velocities. The water was as choppy as a small sea, and though the BETTY was managing the chop sufficiently, I noticed that no one in the boat was wearing their lifejackets (PFDs) except the operator, Terry Wissman. With the sun beating relentlessly down upon the open boat, the occupants likely shunned Terry’s advice to don a hot jacket in the sweltering heat reflecting off the surface of the river.

In 1970, cellphones were yet decades away. Without two-way radios, the CAPTAIN BETTY and the DELTA QUEEN had no way to communicate except for shouts and hand and arm signals. I remained powerless to do anything by watch and hope that nothing went awry.

As the CAPTAIN BETTY sped around the QUEEN, often disappearing for several minutes at a time, a shout came up from someone on the deck below the pilothouse, so I hurried out to the end of the port wing and looked down to discover the BETTY maneuvering close alongside. As there was little chance to recover the small boat back aboard the DELTA QUEEN while underway, except for lowering the Landing Stage and maneuvering the small ark onto the swinging walkway with only the greatest and most precarious difficulty, I ruled out bringing the small boat back aboard the steamer.

The extraordinary weight of the liquid inside the BETTY caused it to begin rotating in a flat spin toward the DELTA QUEEN’s churning paddlewheel.

Meanwhile, the occupants were loudly discussing a matter with someone on the QUEEN’s main deck. Immediately, I turned to Captain Harry and informed him that our wayward runabout was maneuvering close alongside in what appeared to be an attempt to have something from below passed over to them. (What could it have been? Leave guesses in the comments, please.)

Wissman, I noticed, was doing all he could to keep the CAPTAIN BETTY safely away from the protruding lock bumper welded onto the hull at that location to prevent the DELTA QUEEN from riding overtop the tops of the walls on the old-style locks still in use on the Ohio River. However, the waves created by the churning of the water by the Sunday boaters threatened to cause trouble for the BETTY if she came too close to the massive steel and timber fender.

No sooner had the thought occurred relative to the hazard unfolding below, the gunnel, or side, of the CAPTAIN BETTY slipped beneath the bottom of the lock fender in the deep trough of a high wave. As the trough arose into a crest, the BETTY immediately became trapped beneath the bumper while filling the small boat nearly full with river water; the extraordinary weight of the liquid inside the BETTY caused it to begin rotating in a flat spin toward the DELTA QUEEN’s churning paddlewheel.

“ALL STOPPED… STOP THE ENGINES,” I screamed to Captain Louden. Immediately, Harry rang the engineroom to stop the thundering, monstrous paddlewheel.

Sadly, Terry Wissman left this life in early February 2014 – way too early, but his bravery and leadership on the Ohio River, exactly 51 years ago tomorrow, 14 June 1970, kept himself and the others from perishing that fateful day. (Photo by Beth Ford)

By the time I looked again toward the CAPTAIN BETTY, Terry had everyone securely buckled into a lifevest. Captain Louden steered the stern away from the foundering tiny vessel just as it capsized and rolled bottom-up. Other small craft in the vicinity swarmed from all directions towards the stricken boat and plucked the terrified survivors from the river.

In my distinctive handwriting, the DELTA QUEEN Log Book recalled:

“Sun. June 14. Second Spring 1970 Trip. New Orleans to Cincinnati. 169 Passengers. CAPT. BETTY boat, while maneuvering close to the DELTA QUEEN, hit our guard, eventually capsizing. DQ stopped, and when found there were no injuries, proceeded upbound. Mr. Muster and three others aboard (besides Terry). Boat towed to Madison Marina.”

When the CAPTAIN BETTY turned turtle, all the latest photo gadgetry and expensive equipment the lens clickers had with them went to the bottom of the Ohio River. No one was physically injured, and the credit for saving the lives of those aboard the auxiliary speedboat goes almost entirely to deckhand Terry Wissman who promptly took command of the situation and had everyone wearing a PFD before the BETTY filled with river water and rolled over.

In more than a half-century since this misadventure unfolded on the Ohio above Madison, all the participants mentioned here, except this writer, have passed on to wherever steamboaters go after they’ve gone on. Sadly, Terry Wissman left this life in early February 2014 – way too early, but his bravery and leadership on the Ohio River, exactly 51 years ago tomorrow, 14 June 1970, kept himself and the others from perishing that fateful day.

Captain Don Sanders is a river man. He has been a riverboat captain with the Delta Queen Steamboat Company and with Rising Star Casino. He learned to fly an airplane before he learned to drive a “machine” and became a captain in the USAF. He is an adventurer, a historian, and a storyteller. Now, he is a columnist for the NKyTribune and will share his stories of growing up in Covington and his stories of the river. Hang on for the ride — the river never looked so good.   


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9 Comments

  1. Mike Washenko says:

    Probably a bottle of whiskey.

    Great story Capt and good reminder to always wear that life jacket.

  2. Ronald Sutton says:

    YA ‘Moment of Unusual Interest’ that seem to happen randomly on Boats and Ships without warning. All performed Well especially the Marine turned Deckhand. Rule, be it Riverboat or Deep Sea Ship, something, Good or Bad, is going to Happen. Especially when cruising along, without a cloud in the sky.

  3. Cornelia Reade-Hale says:

    Thanks Capt Don for another Awesome telling of a heart clutch moment. You make us feel as if we were on the bridge with you or down in the Capt Betty.
    I love living or reliving these river moments.. They’re the real river. Please keep them coming.

  4. Ginnie Rhynders says:

    I’m guessing there was a wish to have some alcohol of some form passed to the CAPT BETTY. Always look forward to these personal stories. Thanks once again for keeping them alive.

  5. Jo Ann Schoen says:

    I was facebook friends with Mr. Wissman. I’m glad you had a story that included him, as I was not acquainted with him. Another great story!

  6. Connie Bays says:

    I always enjoy reading these stories. They keep me on the edge of my seat! Please keep them coming!

  7. Mary says:

    Just another fantastic article written about life on the Steamboat Delta Queen. How I enjoy these weekly posts and the visual Capt Don Sanders evokes with his writing. Thank you Captain!

  8. Patrick B Mullins says:

    Don, Great story. I was thinking life jackets, but covered that. Did they need a towel or something absorbent to dry off the camera equipment?

  9. Cap'n Don says:

    Thanks, everyone for reading and posting your comments. So what prompted the fateful decision for the CAPTAIN BETTY boat to come alongside the DELTA QUEEN? Some of you were close — it was a cold case of Budweiser. Terry was only following orders from the top.

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