Published: August 04, 2008 11:39 pm            

BANNER: Restore Highland’s high road

I am now in my 70s, and I have spent a great deal of my life enjoying Highland Park. My Dad first took me there when I was 2 or 3. It was prior to World War II, and we didn’t have a car. We lived about a mile and a half north of the park, and he would hoist me onto his shoulders and walk to the park.

There was a lot for a toddler to see back then. In addition to the chair swings and other playground equipment, there were the high rope swings that were suspended from dual trees identically grown for the purpose of making a frame for the iron crossbars that supported the ropes. They were located near the old pavilion that housed Old Ben. My Dad would hold me on his lap or push me in the swings, and I would soar high into the sky, as if I could fly.

My mother was an invalid all her life. After my father went to work for Crosly, which became Delco, just before the Second World War, he bought a used 1936 Chevy. We would drive to or through the park almost daily. My mother would often sing the old Scottish ballad, “Loch Lomond,” as we would travel the high road near Old Ben or the low road past the artesian wells. In the spring, she would often sit for hours making bouquets from the vast carpet of wild violets that covered the area near the Old Swimming Hole at the south end of the park.

In the late 1940s, I worked for Cole Amusements, which was a concession of three ponies, a small whip ride, and a miniature gas-powered train at the east end of the main playground. I worked there with Dick Scoggins, and Betty and Patty Martin, who lived just north of the park on Woodland Avenue. After closing up the rides about 9 p.m., we would enjoy the swings on the playground.

Beginning in the early 1960s and for 17 years, I was the police reporter for the Tribune. Each Friday and Saturday night, it was part of my duties to pick up the hospital notes from both Howard Community and St. Joseph hospitals. I would take the time to enjoy quietly driving through the park between the two stops.

When my children, Melody and Tim, came along, they learned early how to navigate the Indian Trail, with its exposed roots and dirt washouts high above Kokomo Creek. We would skate on the frozen creek above the dam and sled the hills at the south end of the park, two blocks from our home. In turn, their children also learned to enjoy the park when coming back to Kokomo.

The Christmas light display added a new dimension to Highland Park’s winter wonderland, and drives on the high and low roads afforded a path for their full appreciation.

In recent years, I would still enjoy my drive through the park whenever I was coming home from west of town. My wife and I would usually drive the high road in the shelter of its tall trees and watch the fox squirrels frolicking the roadway.

Many landmarks of the park are gone ... the deer kept in an area at the west end of the park near the current park offices. They would feast each fall on red haws from the hawthorn trees that overhung their pen. Gone also are the old pavilions for Old Ben and the Sycamore Stump, along with the family of raccoons that lived in the stump and which park-goers could feed through the wire of the fence. Many of those landmarks fell prey to deterioration and were replaced as necessary by a long list of great park superintendents.

However, the recent destruction of the high road resulted from the selfish and destructive nature of one man, our former mayor Matt McKillip. In a brief moment, he destroyed one of the most enjoyable routes of nature for a pleasant drive in Kokomo. His lame excuse was that cars would travel through the park with disregard to the speed limits. The truth is the low road is the more prevalent for high-speed driving. Any speed problem could have been solved with speed bumps and better enforcement.

I urge the Kokomo Park Board, the Kokomo Common Council and Mayor Greg Goodnight to restore the high road so we residents in our twilight years can enjoy that which we miss so much. The high road may never take us to Loch Lomond, but it is great for a frequent trip down memory lane.

        

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