Living in a “nut” house…best eduction ever

By Don Radebaugh…. TOLEDO, Ohio – In December of 1983, I was part of a two-tug operation that moved three barges from Lorain, Ohio to Ogdensburg, New York, via the Welland Canal, which separates Lake Erie from Lake Ontario. At 22, I was the Captain on the smaller tug (Karl E. Luedtke) that steered the barges, in tandem, from the stern. I had no relief pilot with me whereas the bigger tug in front had two Captains who could relieve each other. Needless to say, there was no sleep for me over the two-and-a-half days it took to bounce across Lake Ontario in heavy ice-filled seas at barely eight knots.

Our journey up the Saint Lawrence Seaway ended as planned, in Ogdensburg where the outfit would be dredging up the St. Lawrence through the winter, into spring. After the long, grueling trip, I was more than ready to go home for Christmas. No sooner than I arrived home, the company called me back to work the dredging operation through the winter, not as a Captain, but as a deckhand, which means my 12-hour night shifts would be outside on deck in sub-zero temps, rather than in a heated pilot house. Needing a job, I accepted and headed back to Ogdensburg in early January.

My first order of business was to find living quarters that would work over the next four months. The town was already buried in snow –  back when it used to snow – and I needed to find a place fast or I’d be sleeping in my Ford 150, which I had done before, and was prepared to do again. I don’t remember why or how, but I stumbled upon a two-story tavern on the main drag. I went inside to get warm and ask some questions. The proprietor of Nig’s Tavern – and yes his name was Nig – was behind the bar. He said no need to go any further…he had a room right upstairs he’d rent me for $30 a week. I couldn’t say it was really a ‘room’ but it was a 10 by 15 living space with a bed, and, for 30 bucks, that was plenty good enough for me. Community bathroom/shower down the hall would also have to do. Never mind the loud bar brawls that seemed to go down most nights at Nig’s…all part of the ambiance.

It was getting late, and I had to be down to the dredging operation for orientation first thing in the morning. I laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering how I had ever gotten to this place to begin with. I no sooner closed by eyes when a person I did not know marched into my room uninvited. He did not say hello but said his name was Tony. He was a full-grown man, yet his mind and body seemed to be stuck at 14. He proceeded to tell me that I would be hearing his sounds through the night…something like pained moans, gasps and groans…but not to be alarmed…it happened every night while he was dreaming. Needless to say, this freaked me out, and, just as he said, I heard him groan all night long. I’m not gonna lie…it was creepy.

I started to ask questions around town regarding this place called Nig’s Tavern. I soon learned that there was a ‘State’ hospital of some sort down the street…a place for the ‘mentally challenged’ to live out their days. I also learned that many of Nig’s residents were fresh from the hospital…that he would take them in to help provide some normalcy. I literally found myself living with “crazy” people. But, after I calmed down, relaxed a little and settled in, I began to…dare I say…fit in like a glove.

I became friends with Tony, whose only mode of transportation was an old, crappy bicycle. I opened up to him. He literally went everywhere with me. It didn’t matter where I was going. If I was going to the laundromat, he wanted to go, and so he went. I soon learned that Nig had a heart of gold. He not only provided living accommodations for the patients, he fed them too. He fed me too, at no charge other than my measly rent of 30 dollars. There was a big oblong table in the bar area, and he’d gather us all around for the evening meal. I loved it, and I looked forward to it.

These ‘crazy’ people were actually pretty wonderful, and sooo interesting. I’ve never been among a group of people who were so unassuming, nonjudgmental and accepting. You could actually be yourself, as weird as you could possibly be, or were, and it was all okay. These people had courage…the courage to be themselves as best as they understood themselves, despite their wide range of issues. I learned that they weren’t really “crazy” at all. It was the rest of the “civilized” population around us who were the real kooks.

When it came time for me to leave, they all lined up and waited to have their own moment with me. Honestly, I’ve never had anyone who, outside of my immediate family, adored me as much. And of course, Tony cried his guts out when I left. It was heart-wrenching.

I have no idea what happened to Nig, or all those people, but I learned more in four months at Nig’s Tavern than I ever learned in college, or anywhere else for that matter…in part, that the more we quit trying to be like everyone else, or quit trying to fit in, that we then begin to discover who we really are. I learned it takes a lot of courage to be our true selves, yet, through it all, it’s well worth the risk. It was a fascinating journey, and I’ll always have a piece of Nig’s Tavern with me wherever I go. Tipping my eggnog this holiday season to Nig and his family of misfits in Ogdensburg, New York. Thanks for the great life lessons, and honored to be in the “club”.

NOTE: Captain Ernest McSorley, Master on the ill-fated Great Lakes freighter Edmund Fitzgerald, grew up in Ogdensburg, N.Y. where his dream to be a ship’s Captain was born. McSorely eventually moved to my hometown of Toledo, Ohio where he lived out his final days at 4304 Bancroft Street, just down the street from the University of Toledo. I salute every time I drive by his house.