Clifton

I was born at an early age----yep, you can tell that by the house I grew up in. Seriously, this is where my early recollections began. By the time I was nine months old this was home for the next eighteen years. It was just after the second World War and houses were very hard to find for sale. Dad rented this one for a "temporary" place and we only rented half of it. When the other family moved out, Dad bought the house and there we stayed until I graduated from high school. It was NEVER a favorite of my mother's and she always hoped we'd move away soon. For me it holds lots of good memories because it had the best hiding places and my friends loved to come over and play. The stories I can tell about all our childhood antics in that house and yard could fill a book.

It was the greatest neighborhood to grow up in and the best time to do it. We had the run of the street. We played in the middle of the street. Yikes, we scream today when one of ours runs near the curb. All the kids of the block played dodge ball, softball, hide-and-go-seek, jump rope and anything else we could think up until all the hours of the evening. Even after dark, our parents sat on the front porches and watched the rowdy bunches until we were all exhausted. We rode our bikes everywhere for blocks away--- to the library, swimming pool, drug store to get comic books, and just exploring the sights. We created our own variety shows, plays, fairs and of course the summer Kool-aid stands. My best friend and I even dressed up as gypsies and had our own crystal ball and told fortunes for our ever-supporting friends. There was actually a charge for this. Oh, the tales go on. I'll save more for another time.

We roam that street today and remember all the great times, but mourn for the structures that have disappeared from the scene. The most tragic is the missing ante-bellum home that sat at the end of the street. It was a three-story, twenty-three room mansion sitting on fourteen acres that stretched to the road below and had tunnels that ran all the way to the Ohio River. Beautiful flowers (daffodils blooming in a cross shape at springtime) log cabins on the property sideyard, iron fences and gates, and verandas were just some of the intriguing features of the Franz house. Sadly, it met its demise for the sale of the property to make way for a nursing home. The back land was sold for a strip mall. Oh, how my heart aches when I think of the lack of historic preservation at that time. Today, it wouldn't, couldn't happen. I am still searching the local archives for pictures of the mansion.

Our family house still graces the corner lot there and for the most part looks very much like it did. Most portions of the fence my dad built are gone and the porch is now concrete, not wood. The biggest change is a large porch in the back. I still can look at the front of the house and see my bedroom windows above the front porch and recall the eighteen years of my life spent there on Clifton.

My parents would faint if they knew the sale prices of our house today. My dad sold it for $13,000 in 1964. Goes for a LOT more today. All in all, the neighborhood has made a great comeback and considered one of the great old neighborhoods of the city. Oh, would my mother be surprised.