Georgia Natural Wonder #183 - Chattahoochee River - Ramblin Raft Race. 2,458

[Top Row Dawg]

Georgia Natural Wonder #183 - Chattahoochee River - Ramblin Raft Race

We have spent several post on the Chattahoochee River below Buford Dam. I originally intended to come to the Hooch as part of a post on the section where they held the Ramblin Raft Race. I participated in that event in 1979. I have floated that section from Morgan Falls Dam down to Northside Drive about a dozen times since. Have made many Sunday Walks and lunchtime stoner breaks, down at the Palisades. I just love the cliffs and the shoals all along this stretch of my home town river. Found hundreds of images of the Raft Race and I am breaking this river run into three post. Today I will cover the history of the Raft Race. The next two post will cover the present day Wonder above I-285 and then below I-285. So get ready folks as the Georgia Natural Wonder Forum flips the throw back switch today. 



Lets give us some background music as we view today's post. Country music artist Alan Jackson released his song "Chattahoochee" in 1993 as a single off his album A Lot About Livin' (And a Little 'bout Love) (the name of the album being the last line of the aforementioned song's chorus). "Chattahoochee" received Country Music Association awards for Single of the Year and Song of the Year.


Video is skiing on Lake Lanier, which I guess is technically the Chattahoochee River.

Professional wrestler Marty Jannetty claimed to have committed murder and dumped the body in the Chattahoochee River. "Made the man disappear." But that was down by Columbus.


As part of the Rockers.

The Ramblin' Raft Race was an annual Memorial Day weekend raft race on the Chattahoochee River in Atlanta that lasted from 1969 to 1980. At its peak, more than 300,000 rafters partook in the race. Amid increasing environmentalism, the race was cancelled. The race was associated with consumption of alcohol and illegal drugs, both by the rafters and the thousands of spectators that lined a route that began in Sandy Springs and ended in Vinings.



History

The race began in 1969 when several Delta Sigma Phi fraternity members at Georgia Tech, organized it as a social event. When the radio station WQXI became a sponsor and promoter, the race began to draw a larger crowd. By the mid-1970s, hundreds of thousands of people were crowding the Chattahoochee to either watch or participate.



The event began to draw national and even international attention, with the Guinness Book of World Records dubbing it the world's largest participant sporting event, CBS News' anchor Dan Rather reporting on it, and a French documentary on the river mentioning it.


TRD's year.

A multitude of reasons contributed to the race's eventual cancellation. Property owners along the river complained of the public drunkenness, drug and alcohol use, and nudity, exhibited by both the participants and spectators.



In 1978, amid increasing environmental concerns in the country, President Jimmy Carter signed a bill creating the Chattahoochee River National Recreation Area. By 1980, the race’s last year, the National Park Service had to budget an extra $50,000 to bring in additional rangers, some from as far away as Washington, D.C., to handle the large crowds that attended the event.



In addition, local authorities began to crack down on the event's participants by issuing citations for public drunkenness, and in 1980, Fulton County towed an estimated 4,000 cars. The 1980 race also saw a drowning, the only one in the race's decade-plus run. Thus, following the 1980 race, an overextended park service informed race organizers that if they wanted the event to continue, the sponsors would have to pay for security and cleanup. The sponsors refused, and the event was cancelled indefinitely.



Environmental effect

Studies by the Georgia Wildlife Foundation found that the raft race itself wasn’t actually harming the river to any significant degree, as the clean-up of litter was manageable. However, the race’s spectators posed the larger environmental threat, since they were trampling fragile vegetation along the banks of the river.



Woodstock on the Water: An oral history of the Ramblin’ Raft Race

Every third Saturday of May during the 1970s, Atlanta hosted a raft race on the Chattahoochee River. Sounds simple, and it sort of was, until the race took on dimensions that even its founder, Larry Patrick, never imagined. Thousands of rafts would take to the water, sailing (and often sinking) down river with their cockeyed captains and tipsy deckhands aboard. Now, on the 35th anniversary of the Ramblin’ Raft Race’s end, we revisit the Georgia Tech frat boys who made it happen—as well as a few other folks who weren’t too happy to have a quarter-million people partying on the banks of the ’Hooch with their tops off, their cups full, and, for a while there, no one to stop them.



1969

Atlanta was full of boundless energy and enthusiasm. There were buildings going up downtown. Underground was flourishing with entertainers like Piano Red and Cortez Greer. I-285 was nearly complete. It was just fabulous, the feeling the city projected. Atlanta was ripe for a party. All it needed was a spark, somebody to light a match. In 1969 Tech only had about three girls. On July 26, 1969—a week after Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon, less than a month before Woodstock—Patrick and his crew, which dwindled from nine to three over the course of the race, won the 34-mile inaugural event in about 30 hours.



We had around 55 entrants, maybe 2,500 watching. Right away, we realized that rather than a competitive race, we should just make this a fun float, a social event.



By the end of the race, no one knew where the finish line was, and nobody really cared. I’d just joined the [Delta Sigma Phi] fraternity, but they made me vice president because of the thing’s popularity. The talk about it never quit. So we figured we’d do it again.



1970

Applications for what was called the “Second Annual Delta Sigma Phi Chattahoochee Raft Race”—now 10 miles, stretching from below Morgan Falls Dam to Paces Ferry—came from as far away as Chapel Hill. The Coca-Cola Company offered free soda at the finish and a “raft load” of Cokes for the winner of each race class: “battleships” (homemade rafts with more than 60 square feet of deck), “tugboats” (smaller homemade rafts), and “commercial” (such as rubber rafts). Spectators lined the Powers Ferry bridge to watch 1,066 rafts compete in water raised three feet by Georgia Power.



A plane buzzed the river all day trailing a banner saying, “WQXI welcomes everyone to the raft race”; as the station got involved in this crazy promotion.



“Probably the most outstanding entry of all ended the cruise two miles short of its destination. The Chattahoochee Queen, Delta Sigma Phi’s entry, was a 34-foot-long pirate ship complete with tri-deck, mast, and pirate flag, but alas, she sank.” —Atlanta Journal, May 18, 1970



1971

By the third year, some 180,000 spectators and 4,700 entrants came from as far away as Michigan. Race booklets were printed with maps and pictures. Georgia Power cleared a camping area at Morgan Falls Dam. The Marine Corps offered to transport rafts on its trucks. A broadcasting company built scaffolding along the river to film the race.



Even the University of Georgia took note. George B. Purdle, president of the University of Georgia’s Yachting Fraternity, sent a letter of challenge to “the men of the Yellow Jacket Armada” that read: “On the morning of May 22, 1971, one delegation of mad Bulldogs will descend from the North to appear on the water and prove once and for all the superiority and know-how of the mammal over the insect . . . not all the slide rules in the world can take the place of sheer guts and determination.” Some 170 Georgia Tech students helped Patrick and a group of his fraternity brothers prepare for the race.



“It may have been the world’s biggest float-in—4,700 rafts, inner tubes and oil drums, and one floating Volkswagen."



"Carrying no fewer than 20,000 happy Georgians down a 9-mile stretch of the Chattahoochee in a demonstration dramatizing the need to clean up the river, which runs through suburban Atlanta. But then, with 100,000 people watching along the shore, the float-in turned into a kind of watery Woodstock.” —Newsweek, June 7, 1971



Anything home-built, 50 percent of those didn’t make it. A former Falcons player, Alex Hawkins, he built a humongous raft he brought in at night. I don’t know how many dozens were on it, but it made it a couple hundred yards down the river before it went under. Larry got raked over the coals after 1971. No one anticipated that the event would take off as it did. It’s suddenly really important to have a transportation system set up, the right number of Porta-Potties in the right places, the right number of food and drink vendors. All the things college kids never anticipated in 1969.



1972–1978: Big-Business Time

In 1972 Patrick helped create the American Rafting Association (ARA), a nonprofit that—with the promotional help of WQXI—ran the “Ramblin’ Raft Race.” But opposition had increased: The race was polluting the river and snarling traffic. Patrick issued trash bags to spectators and contestants, and spent weeks after the race cleaning the river. Styrofoam crafts were banned.



A large net was stretched across the river at U.S. 41 to prevent downstream pollution. Patrick even helped inaugurate a Georgia Tech course, Industrial Engineering 491: Raft Race Systems Analysis. There were now six race divisions, including a “Bikini Division,” in which each craft would be crewed entirely by women, “preferably in bikinis.”



The first big event Charlie Daniels Band ever played was that 1972 race.

1973

Race day weather was cold and rainy, but an estimated 200,000 spectators still showed up to see some 20,000 participants in gunboats, coffin rafts, cars on tubes, and floating political ads. There was a growing feeling among some of Patrick’s fraternity brothers that he had wrested control of the race away from them.



We had a rope across the river that was the starting line. As the rafts were put in the river—10-by-15s, double-deckers, few well-built—the big boats started first, and they’d mosey across that rope. And then the Corps of Engineers let out water, which created a current to push the boats. But there was a rope in the way; suddenly every boat near it got caught up in it and was basically torn apart.



1974

Referred to in one press account as “Georgia’s answer to the Spanish Armada,” the raft race now included sponsors like Dairy Queen and the Treasure Island discount stores. The ARA had also launched races in Nashville and St. Paul. But Atlanta’s was largest. And Riverbend remained a focal point for the less serious “racers,” who were the vast majority.



They used to call Riverbend “Gonorrhea Gulch.” I guess there was a lot of sex going on. The Raft Race seemed to heighten that. Particularly with people who’d just met. They’d stop off at Riverbend and go by the big pool and meet. You’d go to that huge beer truck and have a beer and watch the girls take off their tops as they passed. You look back on some of these things and say, “Man, did that really happen?”



1975

The increasing cost of putting on a safe and clean race led Patrick to run the race for profit, with the help of WQXI. The station sent out a hot air balloon manned by DJ “Coyote McCloud” to “cover” the race from the sky.



TANNER There were people who came down through there nude or partially nude, drunk, getting out on private property and creating issues and so forth with homeowners. It started off pretty harmless, but it turned into a nightmare.



We’d drift down the river and drink and smoke and everybody was just hanging loose. It was just a big floating party. Not drowning was winning for most of them.



1976

Sponsors increased at what was now called the “WQXI Ramblin’ Raft Race.” Coca-Cola provided thousands of balloons, and Rich’s department store offered race T-shirts, sunscreen, and towels. Patrick, who had graduated with a degree in textile management, was still living and running ARA out of a Georgia Tech dormitory building, where “most of my volunteers could hear me from a loudspeaker.” The university gave him $350 a month for managing the dorm.



PATRICK It was all so expensive—Porta-Potties, rental stages, rental sound, everything—I had to hit Dad up for some money.



Everybody came, even Ted Turner. He built his own raft. I remember him telling me, “Larry, wouldn’t it be nice if we had some Coney Island hot dogs?” “Yeah, sure,” I said. “Well, let’s get some!” He sent a plane to New York to get the hot dogs.



G. PATRICK I think Ted learned to sail at the race.



1977

“As Cobb County Civil Defense director, [James] Ray knows that the higher the turnout of rafters, boaters or inner-tubers, the greater the risk of someone losing his life. Even with a $25,000 budget and dedicated volunteers, the Cobb rescue operations often are not able to prevent tragedies.” —The Atlanta Journal and the Atlanta Constitution, May 21, 1977



1978–1980: New Players, New Battles

An extra 70 Cobb County police officers, along with several dozen state police, patrolled the race course, which was now being called “The Rose Bowl of the River.” Between 300,000 and 400,000 spectators showed up. One couple nearly drowned after being swept under construction debris below the I-285 bridge.



Both the man and woman were pronounced dead when removed from the river, but then subsequently revived. Larry Patrick’s star continued to rise.



On August 15, 1978, President Jimmy Carter established the Chattahoochee River National Recreation Area, a unit of the National Park Service. It was good news for protection of the area.



The National Park Service runs a very tight ship, and they weren’t real crazy about having a raft race in 1979. So they brought in rangers from all over the region, including a park police detail from Washington, D.C.



1979

By now there were more than 70,000 participants and 400,000 spectators, and the race’s budget was around $100,000. Meanwhile the new Chattahoochee River National Recreation Area recruited 25 park rangers from around the Southeast for duty. Patrick moved ARA’s offices to a little building on Third Street.



law enforcement specialist tasked with coordinating efforts among the park and local police and fire departments. We weren’t prepared to handle all the found property—clothing, wallets, jewelry—or the lost people. Sixteen-year-olds who didn’t make arrangements for pickup. We’d have all these parents showing up saying, “Where’s my child? He hasn’t come home!” They’d expect you to drop everything. And there were 50 or 60 parents asking all at once.



People were jumping off of Diving Rock stark naked. That always attracted a crowd. And they’d be intoxicated. And somebody would bump into someone else, and you’d have a fight. As a brand-new park, how do you handle prisoners? Where do you transport them? How are they processed?



TANNER We had a Cobb County magistrate down on a sandbar. You’d bring the people in who didn’t comply with the law, and he’d take their case and act on it right there in the river. We also had a bus to take non - compliant people to the jail.



The Atlanta Constitution reported 110 injuries, including a 15-year-old boy who broke his neck trying to jump from a bridge down to a raft. A Playboy Playmate named Candy Loving, was sent out there by Budweiser. She was something.



1980

The ARA and WQXI continued to fight over control of the race, both seeking the coveted “water event” permit given out by the Department of Natural Resources. In April, WQXI won the permit and, with a budget of about $100,000, planned the race without Patrick’s involvement. Once a strong supporter of the race, the Atlanta Journal and the Atlanta Constitution reported that public safety officials had concluded, “There’s no way to fully control the thousands of beer-swilling, dope-smoking rafters” who would take part.



There was a drowning the night before the race. He was doing some pre-race partying when he went in. On race day itself, I was assigned to a rescue boat with another ranger at Diving Rock, in the narrows. It’s a rocky area. At high water, you get big waves. And people were getting tossed out. We’re grabbing them and taking them over to the aid station.



Then bigger rafts come down, and they’re slamming into islands, breaking up. Suddenly you’ve got two-by-fours with big nails floating by, hitting rubber rafts. We’re grabbing folks, throwing them on the islands, and going back to get more. The water is cold, and nobody’s wearing a life jacket. People are screaming, “Get us off the island!”



“Divers searched two areas on the rain-swollen, muddy Chattahoochee River for reported drowning victims Saturday, but the search was called off at dark. There were confused and unconfirmed reports throughout the afternoon and evening that as many as four persons drowned during the Chattahoochee River Festival. Though a number of people were still unaccounted for Saturday night, there were no confirmed deaths.” —The Atlanta Journal and the Atlanta Constitution, May 25, 1980



In the end, there was only one drowning victim, from the night before the race.



HIGHTOWER It was technically called a “river festival” that year, but it wasn’t festive for a whole lot of people.



It’s a shame it had to go away, but it probably had to. The mores changed; the times changed. It’s probably best it’s in the history books.



G. PATRICK If we’d had cell phones back then, it would have been a cinch.



SLOAN Long-term it was a good thing. It brought attention to the river—Georgia’s most important natural resource. Put Atlanta on the map, too.



RUSKIN One thing I learned from Larry is that if you have a passion for a dream, you can make it a reality. College kids turned a raft race into the largest cocktail party in the world! The old people at Johnny’s Hideaway still talk about it!



Our Georgia Natural Wonder Gals today 41 years ago.