RIVER CITY JOURNAL: PRAISE THE LORD: RIVER CITY HAS AN ANSWER TO ITS TOURISM PRAYERS

If you think buying a piece of old bridge is a good idea, I know about some swampland. Really, I do.

You probably read about the idea for the old river bridge across the mighty Mississippi.

This is the idea that the city -- or somebody official -- would take ownership of a piece of the bridge -- not the whole bridge, mind you -- and turn it into a tourist attraction.

Well, there you have it. If ever there was an opportunity for a first-rate, all-American, sure-fire tourism magnet, this is it.

Absolutely.

Out in Boston, they'll be saying: Let's see, I could go to Barbados, but I'd really like to go see that piece of old bridge in Cape Girardeau.

Or in Los Angeles, they'll be saying: You know, I'm getting kind of tired of the same old ski trip in Colorado every year. Let's go see that piece of old bridge in Missouri.

Down in Sikeston, they'll be saying: Hey, Hon, we could go see that piece of old bridge in Cape. Or we could stay at home. What do you think, Hon?

And in Osaka and Tokyo, they'll be saying -- heck, I don't speak Japanese, so it's hard to say what they'll be saying. But I bet it has something to do with a piece of old bridge right here in River City.

Durn tootin' that's what they'll all be saying.

Yessiree, this will rank right up their with the world's largest ball of twine and the deepest hand-dug well. I've seen 'em both, so I'm something of an expert on tourist traps.

Hizzonor the mayor has weighed in on the fraction of river span that heretofore was relegated to some steel recycling center, putting quite a crimp in the already elaborate plans for a downtown golf course.

I have a personal stake in the downtown golf course, because I dreamed it up. I've received more suggestions for improvements to my golf course than a redhead has freckles. A whole lot of people think the idea of a downtown golf course is a lot of harmless fun.

But that's the point.

It's a joke.

(Sorry, folks. I know some of you were serious about the downtown golf course, and I hate to bust your bubble.)

When I arrived in Cape Girardeau more than five years ago and learned there was a new bridge in the works, I also met some folks who really, really wanted to see the old bridge gone. As soon as possible.

So I began teasing these old bridge haters.

I'd say things like: Wouldn't that old bridge make a great tourist attraction? We could put a carnival midway on it, and a disco, and a casino (hey, it's ON the river), and a fishing pier, and curio shops with handmade crafts featuring old bleach bottles and plastic pop containers.

I said all this in fun, but I got my share of sour looks. For some people, there's nothing funny about that old bridge.

Nothing funny at all.

I was at a party once, and a fellow known for sticking his finger in a whole lot of community projects came up to me and said: You know, we need to find a way to preserve that historic old bridge.

Historic?

Just because it survived World War II without caving in on a line of barges, it's historic?

I thought he was joshing, so I played along and laid out all my schemes for the bridge, including making it the longest fairway in the history of golf. If you want historic, let's go whole hog.

Then, in an evil inspiration, I suggested what we needed was a committee. Isn't that the way we do things around here? And I gave him the names of some prospective committee members -- including some friends who are the poster children for the Bring in the Wrecking Crews TODAY Club.

I'll be danged if he didn't call them and ask them to be on the committee to preserve the bridge!

Those friends are still needling me about the terrible joke I played on them.

But, there you go again. It's a joke, folks.

Now that Hizzoner's plan is out in plain sight, I have this terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. Is it possible -- and I'll stay awake for nights trying to figure it out -- that my careless funny business has turned into an official plan?

Mrs. Jones, my high school English teacher, always said my warped sense of humor would get me in trouble one day. She probably thought it would be before my high-school graduation.

Well, Mrs. Jones, here we are.

Thanks to me and my big mouth, we're about to put a bronze plaque on a piece of old bridge and call it the Piece of Bridge to Nowhere.

That guy in the movie must have been right. If you don't tear it down, they WILL come.

~R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.