Along the Riverfront with Bob Burtnett — Jan. 8, 1953 in the Chillicothe Bulletin

We came across this story not too long ago and think it worth repeating. Its accuracy in a few spots may be questionable as it all came to me “by word of mouth.” We stand ready to receive any amendments or suggestions.

Back in 1908 or 1909, somewhere around that time, there lived in Chillicothe a rugged individualist by the name of Johnny Davidson. Johnny lived in a cabin boat just north of the old water works, an ideal spot for a fisherman to have his retreat. A quiet, deliberate, unassuming gentleman was he, but like most quiet men, not one to take kindly to repeated offenses against his good nature.

Johnny used to set out his nets in the DeVoss Spring just above the northern terminus of the Coogan Gravel Co.’s property. Here, at one time they say, was seven feet of good fishing water where now there is not enough to float a toy boat.

More than once Johnny had come out with a boat loaded well past the normal water line, full of fish destined for market.

But to get back to our story . . . At dusk one summer evening he was rowing his big seine boat, loaded with fish from the springs, down to the fish market at the foot of Pine Street.

As he neared the point of the slough one of the Swain boats, probably the David Swain, came boiling up the river for a flash landing at Chillicothe.  

The wash from her big wheel nearly swamped Johnny’s boat. Johnny beached his boat and walked slowly down to the old steamboat landing at the foot of Walnut Street and shouted up to the captain.  “Ye nearly swamped my boat, Capt. Don’t believe I’d do that again if I was you.”  There was no reply from the pilot house and again Johnny lifted his voice.  “Cause if ye do it again, I’ll put a stop to it.”

Having spoken his piece Johnny turned his back on the big packet and walked back up Walnut Street to his own boat. About a week later when Johnny was bringing in a boat load of fish, destined for Herman Mehl’s Fish Market at the foot of Pine Street, the same steamer came by again and once more Johnny’s boat dipped and bobbed in the wake of the vessel.  

Johnny pulled the oars across his lap, reached back into the pile of nets and pulled out a big long barreled gun. Turning toward the packet, he fired three shots, each one of them blasting out a window of the pilot house.

The gun was laid back on the nets; the oars resumed their slow rhythmic creak and Johnny brought his boat into Mehl’s Landing. He sold his fish to Herman and quietly returned to his cabin boat, not even mentioning the affair to Mehl. The friendly warning having been ignored, Johnny was protecting himself in the only way that seemed right to him.  

We don’t know what the official reaction was to this method of coercion, but at any rate it received the desired end. From then on, it was reported, steamboats in this vicinity gave respect and distance to any heavily laden small boat.  

The little man proved his point that the river belongs to everyone, even if at times it becomes necessary to remind some people who believe to the contrary.

Along the Riverfront with Bob Burtnett was a column in the Chillicothe Bulletin from December 1952 until December 1975. The Chillicothe Historical Society recently turned those columns into a new book with the same title.