Cincinnati Ladies Shed Their Clothes And Their Inhibitions At The Floating Bath House
Anchored near the Public Landing, Cincinnati enjoyed a Floating Bath House from 1867 through 1892. During its last decade, the Floating Bath House provided the only option for Cincinnati women who wanted to swim.
Swimming, according to an article in the Cincinnati Commercial Gazette [17 July 1887] provided women with more than fun and exercise. Swimming was an escape from restrictive Victorian manners and clothing:
“What a relief it must be to throw away for a few hours of the week the conventionalities of society, stop appearing dignified, and hie oneself to a place where the proper use of muscles can be demonstrated, and what a pleasure, too, it must be to kick off the skirts and stays and furbelows for once and find the feet free from shoes and stockings.”
The Floating Bath House, operated by brothers Robert and Rudolph Schmidt, was constructed just upriver from Cincinnati and it was a sight to behold. It was 200 feet long and 50 feet wide and rose 15 feet out of the water. The center of the vessel had no floor, allowing swimmers to plunge into Ohio River water through an opening 65 feet long and 20 feet wide. Aligned with the river currents, fresh water flowed through the Bath House continually.
The swimming area was surrounded by 68 dressing rooms supplied with a couple of towels, soap, a mirror and a bathing hose. Fore and aft of the main bathing area was an array of 24 private bathing areas – essentially, bath tubs filled with circulating river water.
Naturally, the Floating Bath House raised protests from Cincinnatians. A letter signed only “August” appeared in the Cincinnati Enquirer [30 May 1874]:
“It is a well enough institution for private baths; but oh, for the public baths. At times there are at least sixty-five together in one tub. Is this not outrageous? Where do a great many young men go to spend their Sunday instead of going to church? They go to the river.”
That complaint was confined to men because, before 1880, only men were allowed onto the Floating Bath House. Women gained some access after a letter, signed only “Amelia B.” was printed in the Cincinnati Star [5 June 1880]:
“The large floating bath house at the foot of Broadway is now daily receiving its hundreds of men and boys who enjoy the luxury of a cool plunge; but no one seems to have an idea that a large number of our city ladies would be glad to have the same privilege, and I throw the suggestion out to the enterprising proprietors that if they would appropriate, say one or two days or afternoons a week exclusively for ladies, and have lady attendants, &c., it would prove a pecuniary benefit to them and confer a boon much needed by the female portion of the community.”
Within days, the proprietors set aside every Tuesday and Friday morning exclusively for women, under the watchful eye of Robert Schmidt’s wife, Fanny. Ladies days were an instant success. (They were such an immediate success, in fact, that cynics might be forgiven for thinking that “Amelia B.” was a pen-name for the Schmidt brothers themselves.) The Cincinnati Commercial Gazette [17 July 1887] reported, without a trace of cynicism:
“Ladies Day at the Floating Bath is becoming more and more popular. The whole forenoon of Tuesday and Friday of each week is especially set apart for them and no man no matter who he be is permitted to enter upon those occasions so zealously guarded by either Mrs. Robert Schmidt or her sister.”
Because the Schmidts understood that few Cincinnati women knew how to swim, they provided an “instructress,” Miss Pauline Zittell to offer lessons in swimming and diving throughout the women’s hours.
The women who showed up for Ladies Days at the Floating Bath House represented the more educated and affluent families of Cincinnati. Several were wives of doctors, while others traveled from Avondale just for the opportunity to swim a few laps and, of course, to study the latest swimming fashions:
“The bathing suits which the women wear are composed most generally of one garment, which is quite sleeveless and hangs loosely about the shoulders, terminating in a pair of trowsers which reach to the knees and over these trowsers is a short skirt about the length of the flannel undershirt worn in winter. These costumes are of all the colors that can be named in a milliner’s vocabulary and of various fabrics.”
Eyebrows rose again nine years later when the Floating Bath House allowed men and women to swim together in the evenings, from 7:00 p.m. until 11:00 p.m. Robert Schmidt felt compelled to issue a statement to the newspapers, clarifying his intentions. This is what the Commercial Tribune [23 August 1889] had to say:
“The object of Mr. Schmidt is solely to promote the art of swimming under proper care and conduct, such as is indulged in at any of the seaside resorts. Under no circumstances will the bath house be made a place of meeting by doubtful characters.”
Somehow, Cincinnati survived the prospect of women and men splashing together in the muddy waters of the Ohio River. Co-ed swimming continued for three more seasons. It all ended in January 1893, when the Bath House, moored for the winter at the foot of Martin Street, burned to the water line because of an overheated stove.
By then, the Floating bath House had competition. Cincinnati had almost 20 bath houses scattered around the city, including a Bremen Street spa with a 100-foot pool and the Munro Turkish bath at 29 West Seventh that offered “Turkish, Russian, Vapor, Sulfur, Electro-Thermal, Medicated, Mineral and Mercurial baths.”
By the time the Floating Bath House burned, beaches on the Kentucky shore at Dayton and Bellevue attracted most of the summer swimming crowds.
