Chapter 12
The 1970s
In
1970, Austin moved into the Brookside Apartments near Four Mile Run. Before - and often even after - the 'concreting' of the its banks, heavy rain would often overflow the banks of
Four Mile Run and flooding occurred with alarming frequency. The remnants of Hurricane Doria in late
August 1971 created havoc.
“The water was up to my neck and
I had a woman on my shoulders,” Austin related, “Amazingly, my Corvette made it
out through 3 feet of water.” Despite
their previous experiences, this flood shocked local authorities and residents. Electricity was cut off and residents were warned
not to drink the water due to contamination fears. In a final kicker, Brookside residents found
no relief from their landlords who still demanded their rent payments.
One year later, Hurricane Agnes
struck with devastating fury, and Four Mile Run flooded once more. While Austin’s woman and car survived yet
again, some local businesses were not as fortunate. Brill's Grocery Store on Mt. Vernon Avenue
was closed due to extensive water damage while the Donut Dinette was also filled
with water, but later re-opened as it had done several times. “Those folks at the Dinette,” he commented,
“either had a sap of an insurance salesman or spent a ton of money on flood
insurance. They always seemed to flood
out, yet never failed to re-open, which was not always the case with some
stores.”
Floods are etched in Austin’s
memories, beginning with the torrents of water that overflowed Sugar Run when
he lived in Jonestown. “The floods were
always intense for me as a young boy,” he said.
Austin vividly remembered when in October of 1954, shortly after he
moved to the D.C. area, Hurricane Hazel
rampaged north, creating devastation from Haiti to Toronto. Wind gusts of nearly 100 miles per hour were
reported in Virginia. Hazel was one of
the deadliest and most costly hurricanes of the 20th century; ninety-five
Americans were killed before it crossed into Canada.
“Hurricane Hazel came through and tore
this place up,” he noted. As with later
storms, Four Mile Run flooded its banks and
filled many homes and businesses with water, including Austin’s home where
three feet of water filled the basement.
The corner of South Glebe and Arlington Ridge Road disappeared under 4 feet
of water, and in his immediate neighborhood, only the Glebe Baptists Church was
spared. Eudy’s Amoco and Esso stations
were lost to the flood. “A smaller
population was the only thing that prevented this from becoming a national
disaster,” he opined, “but I suspect the perfect storm is [still] out there.”
To
make ends meet, Austin decided to drive a taxi.
The job freed him from the 9-to- 5 grind he always abhorred while
satisfying his pleasure for meeting people, especially women. “Little did I know,” he noted, “that I would
spend the next 30 years in the business as a fleet owner and driver.” Being a cab driver had other advantages
including lots of free time which Austin used to earn certification as a
commercial boat Captain and an Associate Degrees in sociology and
philosophy. He even managed to acquire
certification as an Air Conditioning mechanic Columbia Tech (attending class in
his off-hours). It was a period in which
Austin described himself as a “young semi-prosperous dude with cash money.”
In 1977, Austin purchased plans
to build a 36-foot (motorized) sailboat.
Sailing was in his blood, beginning in his boyhood days when he poled
down Four Mile Run in an overturned cement mixer and extending through his Navy
service. His landlord at 212 East Delray
Avenue allowed Austin to use the backyard as his boat building site. “It was a big lot and secluded,” Austin
related, “if you can be secluded in
[tightly packed] Del Ray.” The landlord,
Betty, was an older woman who enjoyed talking to Austin. He was driving for the Alexandria Yellow Cab at
the time shared many entertaining tales with her. Betty would bring out a beer or water to
Austin as he worked, prompting him to launch into one saga after another as she
listened intently. As Austin notes, “I
think she was a lonely old woman.”
He bought all the commercial equipment necessary to
construct his ‘yacht’ including a floor drill press, table saw, planer-joiner,
other assorted tools, and a large supply of wood. As the construction project lurched along,
Betty passed away without warning.
Perhaps disheartened by the loss, he decided not to complete his
project. Eventually, the equipment was
sold and the wood hauled away.
Ruminating on the new businesses
operating in Del Ray these days, Austin often laments, “It’s so yuppified now it’s almost
sickening.” Local bars like Mac's,
Burnell's, Donahue's, Pizza Box, and the Calvert Grill have disappeared. Even “the bordello on Bruce Street is gone,”
he adds, ruefully, “Now that’s a crime.” During one of Austin’s
days off in the late 1970s, he ventured into a local greasy spoon diner called the
Waffle Shop. Located at Mount Vernon
Avenue and Russell Road in Arlandria, the diner has been around longer than
most can remember. The first Waffle Shop
opened in downtown D.C. in the 1940s and served breakfast and lunch to workers
of nearby business as well as the growing number of Federal government
employees. Another diner opened in
Arlandria, followed by more in other parts of the D.C. metropolitan area. We all know the Waffle Shop even
without visiting it: One or two long serpentine linoleum-covered counters
stretching from one end to the other, surrounded by stools affixed to the
floor, and no tables. Small signs are
posted everywhere, often tinged with a layer of grease. Often, they were staffed by ex-convicts
needing a job, but the real danger lay in some of the customers in varying
states of inebriation.
While waiting for his food at the
counter of the Arlandria Waffle Shop, a drunk came in and sat on the stool next
to Austin. The stench of urine and ‘rot-gut
whiskey’ was overpowering and Austin battled waves of nausea as the “miserable
lout bobbed and weaved on the chair.” His
revulsion getting the better of him, Austin recalled, “I thought I would give
him some help and elbowed the bastard in the middle of his chest. No one saw it as it happened so fast. He went toppling out of the stool to the
floor where he lay for an extended period.”
Long enough, at least, for Austin to finish eating and leave. “I would like to tell you that this was an
unusual happening at the Waffle Shop,” he closed, “but it wasn't.”
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