Saints and Sinners: Growing up in Portsmouth

A letter from a reader of Dreamland:

I was living in South Shore when Dr. David Proctor arrived in 1978.  I had just come back from college and was working at the local brickyard.  For a few years I was still apart of the local drug crowd but slowly moved away from it because I found it scary and upsetting.  I did not like buying from biker dudes I did not know and I did not like the small dealers that sold drugs to kids.

In small rural towns there are the “saints” and “sinners” and the doctors in any town normally are in the “saint” category.  One of my local small dealer friends went to Proctor while he was still apart of Dr. Riddle’s office. Proctor told him he would write him a script for any drug he wanted.  When my friend told me this I will never forget the stunned and serious look on his face, even though he got a prescription for Black Beauties.  My friend knew in the back of his sinner brain that something was very wrong.

Once my extended Pentecostal rumspringa was over, I returned to church.  I got married and left the area.  However, my husband was an abusive man and I returned to my mother’s home in South Shore with a small child.  It did not take me long even in my state of mind to see that Dr. Proctor along with another doctor had done major damage to my small town.  Even in my mother’s church there were five people that I knew about that were addicted to prescription drugs.

 Your book focused on the opiates but there was a doctor who ran a “diet” clinic who was free with the amphetamines. I would walk around the corner to see his lot filled with cars from Hamilton, Franklin, Pike and other counties in Ohio plus cars from counties in Kentucky and West Virginia.  The people I saw were lean not obese.  So South Shore was a one-stop on the small time dealer network for both opiates and amphetamines.

 There is one thing I would like to say about kids raised in fundamentalist churches. This is about the saint and sinner perspective.  They will be zealously saint or zealously a sinner and there seems to be no middle ground. This especially applies to rural areas.  If you are trained to live your life a religious zealot then when you turn away from your religious upbringing you live your worldly life just as fervently and passionately in the negative. However, when these same people turn back to their religious roots from the addictive life they are not ashamed to help others to do the same.

I left South Shore in the middle nineties with my middle school aged daughter.  I went back to Morehead State and cleaned up my mess from the 70’s and graduated with honors just in time for my daughter to start college. My daughter went on to get her masters at UK.  After reading your book I am glad we left the area for I can see decades of destruction manifest in South Shore when I go back to visit.

A positive note:  I loved your description of Chillicothe Street especially during the holidays.  I was not part of the middle class but was raise by a single mom with three children and no welfare. We would take a taxi to Portsmouth to shop on Christmas Eve.  I can remember the Salvation Army Santa ringing his bell in front of Kresges’ and my mom singing “Silver Bells.”  We would go to Kresges, Greens Five and Dime, Kobacher’s and to Martings to see their window display and buy hot peanuts from their candy area and play on the escalators.

All of this is etched into my childhood mind as well as all the great times swimming at Dreamland with my brothers and the neighbor kids who took us with them.  I thought all city pools were like Dreamland.

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