The hardiest of Covington's homeless population live in camps along the banks of the Ohio River. The population dwindles in the winter months when the weather gets cold and the river rises, but even on the coldest days a few of Covington's homeless call the area their home. "A lot of folks just set up for the summer, party down 'till it gets cold, and if they got sense they go south. Otherwise, they stay here like me. I got sense, it's just not common," says DJ as he describes the area. There is a sense of community and a survival spirit to the people who live along the river's edge during the winter. "Down here you've got to look out for each other, because no one else will," remarks Dolph on the community spirit. "Everything we have down here belongs to all of us, we have no real personal belongings, we share everything." Some of the river dwellers, including DJ, live under tents and tarps, while others have built small shanties called "hooches." DJ is referred to as a "home guard" he has been living on the banks of the Ohio River for more than ten years, about ten years longer than most of riverbank residents. "I've seen 'em come and seen 'em go... I've seen 'em get killed... I've seen lot's of stuff since I've been living down here," he reveals. Up the river, another camp comprised of seven people who have been living there on and off for a few years. Most of them are train riders or "drifters." They don't stay in town for extended periods of time, that is unless they meet women. Dolph and Art rode into Covington on a freight train from Jefferson City, Missouri in the summer of 1992. The pair only expected to stay in town long enough to get some food stamps, which they sell for cash, and hop on another train heading south. Their routine changed when they became acquainted and fell in love with the women they met in another camp along the river. Dolph and Art are no longer the drifters they were when they came into town, although they don't yet consider themselves the "home guards" which they look down upon. "I'm leaving town soon, but this time it won't be on a train, Tara doesn't like the idea of chasing trains, so we're gonna hitchhike out of here," says Dolph. It's a promise he and many before him have broken. "It's hard to leave here," comments Backpack Bill, who has been on the next train out of town for several weeks. "I keep saying that I'm going to leave tomorrow, but when tomorrow comes I always find a good reason to stay for another day," he adds. In July 1992, one of the men living along the river was beaten to death with a baseball bat. Life along the river was tense until the killers were caught. "We were all scared," says DJ recalling the events, "I was sleeping with one eye open and my machete at my side. We all figured it was someone living on the river, but later we were glad to find out it wasn't." Three men were arrested and later that year, for the killing of friend Bob. The men had mistakenly thought it was Bob they saw running over the flood wall after a window was broken in their car. The beginning of the month brings food stamps, Social Security checks and general good fortune to the homeless. "Usually one of us has enough (money) to get a motel room in town, so we all get in a taxi and head up the hill," says Greg. "Four or five of us cram in a room and have a pretty good time," he says. They look forward to the basics; a hot shower, a nights' sleep in a warm room, and maybe even a little television or a phone call. Nights are customarily spent around a campfire drinking beer and singing songs. Some of the favorites are "Joy to the World," an oldie by Three Dog Night, "Mr. Bojangles," "Freebird", and of course, "Rollin' on the River." Backpack Bill typically leads the way, but they all know the words and sing into the night until their voices are hoarse and dry. By morning they usually wake up "sick" and need to drink again to regain a feeling of normalcy. The day frequently starts out by drinking a few beers before heading up to Pike Street for a warm meal at the Parish Kitchen where they eat and socialize. Dolph refers to the homeless in town as "Mission Babies," because they are unable to live without the help of others. The river tramps pride themselves on their ability to persist in a lifestyle of harsh conditions. They call themselves "survivors." "A lot of times you have to try something different to make it... that's how you survive down here, you improvise," says DJ as he describes his frontier spirit, "It takes a lot of something to survive in (temperatures of) forty below. Living down here is about preference... I prefer this over anything else right now, no one made me come here, I want to be here." STORY INDEX All photos © 1994 John Decker