Longtime friends: A man and the park he works to save

HAMILTON – Surrounded by overgrown grass, weeds and plants up to his shoulders, Steve Monnin holds up a discarded black rubber glove.

“Look, another one,” he shouts, “There’s got to be a needle around here somewhere.”

Monnin is walking through James G. Combs Park with a garbage bag in one hand and a “grip-and-grab” tool in the other.

The 57-year-old Hamilton resident comes here once a week and spends about four hours picking up trash — which often includes beer cans, condom wrappers and needles.

He’s been doing this for three months.

So far, he’s found the belongings of a Middletown man convicted of soliciting sex acts with a child for money and picked up a bag with tiny bones from a dead animal inside.

It’s not his job to clean the 65-acre park — that is, nobody pays him to do this — but if he doesn’t, he fears no one will.

Wearing a bright green T-shirt that says “God Is Good,” Monnin points to freshly cut grass near a bathroom facility that hasn’t been open for many years.

“That’s what I call a butcher job,” he said, his voice rising. “See those pieces of paper? They just mow right over them and then I have to pick (the shreds) up.”

And he does. Because Monnin remembers when there was a baseball field in the park, and he remembers fishing off the dock with his dad.

More recently, when his 21-year-old son drowned diving into a Columbus quarry, the park was a quiet place to come and reflect.

“This was a big part of my life, right here,” Monnin said.

But the former warehouseman is worried if nothing changes, the park he’s called a “doper’s heaven” in emails to city officials, will close for good. They respond by saying they don’t want that to happen, but still it languishes.

“We feel the area is underutilized,” said Aaron Hufford, assistant to the city manager.

Hufford told The Enquirer officials are developing a master plan for the park that better reflects the city. Hamilton Parks Conservancy, a nonprofit group formed in January, is responsible for its basic maintenance.

But the conservancy’s director, Steve Timmer, has concerns about the viability of Combs Park. So he has focused resources elsewhere. Timmer met with Monnin last week. He is blunt.

“I’ll be real honest with you,” he tells Monnin. “This is probably my lowest priority.”

He says this standing in a giant parking lot. There’s a boat dock on one side of him. Everywhere else, when the pavement ends, tall grass and weeds begin. This is the heart of James G. Combs Park, but Timmer has trouble calling it a park.

“It’s a flood plain,” he said. “This probably never should have been developed into a park.”

Jeff Marcum has lived across the street on North B Street for more than 20 years. He stood smoking a cigarette near the dam, a popular fishing spot in the park.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Marcum said, exasperated, when asked about the park. “I won’t even come out here without my boots on.”

To explain, he points to a red house on B Street. “From that house up, that’s Star Hill, but we call it Heroin Hill now,” Marcum said.

Monnin has found nine needles since he started cleaning the park. Marcum says the park also is notorious for dumping. “(Roof) shingles, refrigerators, mattresses – lots of mattresses – couches, anything people can’t get rid of, they dump here,” he said.

“You kind of get used to it after a while.”

Monnin’s white tennis shoes are permanently stained with mud, and his khaki shorts get dirtier by the minute. He shakes his trash bag, which is almost half full.

“I’ve got this much trash, and we’ve only gone from here to here,” Monnin said, waving his arms to signify about 50 feet into the park’s entrance.

“They say they got a plan, but I don’t see a plan. All I see is more trash.”

He sounds discouraged, but it doesn’t last. A few feet behind him, a family of ducks waddles up a path to the road. His tone changes, a smile spreads across his face.

“See, the kids would love to see that,” Monnin said. “It’s got great potential.”