A panorama of changes through more than nine decades runs through the mind of Vernon A. Wingfield, but he always goes back to the one scene most important to him &8212; the Mississippi River.

Wingfield recently reflected on his years working on the river. Those were turbulent years &8212; the rise of diesel-powered boats and the fall of steam-driven ones, the great flood of 1927, the ferries crossing between Natchez and Vidalia, the building of the first bridge from Natchez to Vidalia in 1940 and, most vivid in Wingfield&8217;s memory, the &8220;cuts&8221; made to change the river&8217;s path and cause it to move more quickly to the mouth.

Wingfield came to the Natchez area from Houston, Texas, where a friend helped him to get a job with the Atlantic and Pacific Dredging Co.

&8220;I worked 18 years for that company,&8221; he said. &8220;I came up the river on that dredge, the George W. Catt.&8221;

He pulled out a photograph of the dredge boat, describing how the boat worked up and down the Mississippi in the late 1920s, through the 1930s and into the 1940s.

&8220;The biggest difference in the river today is that back then the pilot had to know the channel,&8221; Wingfield said.

&8220;It wasn&8217;t buoyed out as it is now. In those days, we had a lead man out working the depth of the river.&8221;

He described the rope with a heavy lead block at the end. The rope was marked off with leather strips.

&8220;The leather strips were every five feet, and the lead man would stand ahead to get the depth of water,&8221; Wingfield said.

&8220;If we got into 12 feet of water, the lead man would holler out, &8216;no bottom,&8217; to let the pilot know we had the 12 feet.&8221;

The dredge was a deep-water dredge requiring at least 11 feet for its draft.

Wingfield said the 1927 flood caused everyone to think about ways to control the river.

&8220;The engineers said making cuts would make the water go through faster and that would control the flooding,&8221; he said.

The George W. Catt dredge boat was instrumental in digging through ground from one loop in the river to another, providing a new, straighter channel for the flood-prone river in the 1930s.

&8220;First, the Corps sent a man with dynamite to blow the bank out. And then we&8217;d cut,&8221; Wingfield said.

&8220;The river went through there. My goodness alive, you can&8217;t imagine how fast that water came through there,&8221; he said. &8220;It was a 300-foot cut at first. You can look at it now and think it&8217;s been there all the time.&8221;

Wingfield remembers the last steamboats on the river and, in fact, traveled on them. The old sternwheelers had tough times managing the new cuts in the river at first. &8220;The pilots had to know what they were doing,&8221; he said.

The first sight he had of Natchez was above the skyline. It was the smokestack at the old Natchez Box Co. factory on the slope above the Natchez Under-the-Hill area. The factory was demolished years ago; the smokestack in recent years.

Born Texas in 1909, Wingfield was one of nine children in his family. He had five sisters and three brothers.

&8220;When we were farming, the family had to do all the work. We picked our own cotton,&8221; he said.

When a crop was wiped out by a hurricane one year, the family had to move to look for work elsewhere. They packed all their belongings into a covered wagon and set out from one Texas town to another.

Wingfield delights in telling Texans who brag on their state, &8220;I had to leave Texas to come to Mississippi to make a living.&8221;

In Natchez, he met Alberta Cheney. &8220;She never liked Texas and didn&8217;t want to live there,&8221; Wingfield said. &8220;So we stayed here, were married for 64 years before she died in 1999, and raised our three boys.&8221;

The sons are Vernon Allen Jr., Marvin and Ronnie. Now there are eight grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren.

When he retired from the river, Wingfield started a new career with St. Catherine Gravel Co. He recalled the admiration he had for Willie Junkin and John R. Junkin, whom he came to know through the Junkin family business.

&8220;They knew I was a river man. They bought a bunch of barges and had me in charge of getting them unloaded,&8221; he said.

&8220;Mr. Willie and Mr. Johnny were good people. They never thought they were better than their least hands,&8221; Wingfield said.

The old dredge boat so vivid in his memory was working at the mouth of the river in 1969. Perhaps there was not enough time and warning to move it. It sank there below New Orleans.

Wingfield likes thinking about the U.S. Coast Guard having charge of the river and keeping the channels open.

As for the cuts, many engineers believe the tactic worked as a flood control. Still, some river watchers say more than half the miles saved by the cuts have been reclaimed by the fickle, mighty Mississippi.

Wingfield reflects on years working on the Mississippi

A panorama of changes through more than nine decades runs through the mind of Vernon A. Wingfield, but he always goes back to the one scene most important to him &8212; the Mississippi River.

Wingfield recently reflected on his years working on the river. Those were turbulent years &8212; the rise of diesel-powered boats and the fall of steam-driven ones, the great flood of 1927, the ferries crossing between Natchez and Vidalia, the building of the first bridge from Natchez to Vidalia in 1940 and, most vivid in Wingfield&8217;s memory, the &8220;cuts&8221; made to change the river&8217;s path and cause it to move more quickly to the mouth.

Wingfield came to the Natchez area from Houston, Texas, where a friend helped him to get a job with the Atlantic and Pacific Dredging Co.

&8220;I worked 18 years for that company,&8221; he said. &8220;I came up the river on that dredge, the George W. Catt.&8221;

He pulled out a photograph of the dredge boat, describing how the boat worked up and down the Mississippi in the late 1920s, through the 1930s and into the 1940s.

&8220;The biggest difference in the river today is that back then the pilot had to know the channel,&8221; Wingfield said.

&8220;It wasn&8217;t buoyed out as it is now. In those days, we had a lead man out working the depth of the river.&8221;

He described the rope with a heavy lead block at the end. The rope was marked off with leather strips.

&8220;The leather strips were every five feet, and the lead man would stand ahead to get the depth of water,&8221; Wingfield said.

&8220;If we got into 12 feet of water, the lead man would holler out, &8216;no bottom,&8217; to let the pilot know we had the 12 feet.&8221;

The dredge was a deep-water dredge requiring at least 11 feet for its draft.

Wingfield said the 1927 flood caused everyone to think about ways to control the river.

&8220;The engineers said making cuts would make the water go through faster and that would control the flooding,&8221; he said.

The George W. Catt dredge boat was instrumental in digging through ground from one loop in the river to another, providing a new, straighter channel for the flood-prone river in the 1930s.

&8220;First, the Corps sent a man with dynamite to blow the bank out. And then we&8217;d cut,&8221; Wingfield said.

&8220;The river went through there. My goodness alive, you can&8217;t imagine how fast that water came through there,&8221; he said. &8220;It was a 300-foot cut at first. You can look at it now and think it&8217;s been there all the time.&8221;

Wingfield remembers the last steamboats on the river and, in fact, traveled on them. The old sternwheelers had tough times managing the new cuts in the river at first. &8220;The pilots had to know what they were doing,&8221; he said.

The first sight he had of Natchez was above the skyline. It was the smokestack at the old Natchez Box Co. factory on the slope above the Natchez Under-the-Hill area. The factory was demolished years ago; the smokestack in recent years.

Born Texas in 1909, Wingfield was one of nine children in his family. He had five sisters and three brothers.

&8220;When we were farming, the family had to do all the work. We picked our own cotton,&8221; he said.

When a crop was wiped out by a hurricane one year, the family had to move to look for work elsewhere. They packed all their belongings into a covered wagon and set out from one Texas town to another.

Wingfield delights in telling Texans who brag on their state, &8220;I had to leave Texas to come to Mississippi to make a living.&8221;

In Natchez, he met Alberta Cheney. &8220;She never liked Texas and didn&8217;t want to live there,&8221; Wingfield said. &8220;So we stayed here, were married for 64 years before she died in 1999, and raised our three boys.&8221;

The sons are Vernon Allen Jr., Marvin and Ronnie. Now there are eight grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren.

When he retired from the river, Wingfield started a new career with St. Catherine Gravel Co. He recalled the admiration he had for Willie Junkin and John R. Junkin, whom he came to know through the Junkin family business.

&8220;They knew I was a river man. They bought a bunch of barges and had me in charge of getting them unloaded,&8221; he said.

&8220;Mr. Willie and Mr. Johnny were good people. They never thought they were better than their least hands,&8221; Wingfield said.

The old dredge boat so vivid in his memory was working at the mouth of the river in 1969. Perhaps there was not enough time and warning to move it. It sank there below New Orleans.

Wingfield likes thinking about the U.S. Coast Guard having charge of the river and keeping the channels open.

As for the cuts, many engineers believe the tactic worked as a flood control. Still, some river watchers say more than half the miles saved by the cuts have been reclaimed by the fickle, mighty Mississippi.