The camp was Oure Cassoni, where millions of bugs surround thousands of Darfuri refugees huddled in their tents just a few miles from the border with Sudan. Men, women and children had been driven from their homes in Western Sudan - Darfur - and lived in hope of returning to their villages one day.

So Melissa was once again standing where George and our cousin David Pressman and I stood with her last April. Our friend, photographer Mike Herron, had already returned to the States after being downed by the heat in South Sudan.

“Melissa, what are you doing there? That’s a bad place to be. I read the reports. People are shooting at each other around Bahai.”

“No, no, it’s very quiet today. We haven’t heard any shooting since last week.”

No mortal danger since last week. That’s what passes for safety among humanitarian workers in Africa - not to mention the tens of thousands of refugees themselves.

Talking to Melissa brought so many images rushing back. I asked about friends we had met. Melissa ticked off the names of those who were still there and those who had left. I could picture the bright-colored clothing, the laughing children, the stoic faces of the adults masking the horrors of their recent past. Melissa brought me back to that moment.

“I just wanted you to know I delivered the blankets. It’s so cold here, Nick, you wouldn’t believe it. Remember how hot it was when we were here together? Now it’s winter and so cold in the desert. The blankets are really welcome.”

The blankets. Last summer, when I spoke about Darfur at the Underground Railroad Center, a woman came up to Nina and me with a message. Her friend, Leticia Jennings, hadn’t come to the event because of illness. But she sewed light, quilted blankets at home. She wanted to send them to Darfuri families.

Eventually, Leticia prepared more than a dozen of them. I called Melissa to see how we could package them and to whom we should send them. Melissa told Nina, “I’ll be going back there soon. Send them to me, I’ll take them myself.”

That offer was more generous than many would understand. Traveling in that forbidding part of the world is very difficult at best. The one imperative is to travel light, taking as little as possible. Lugging an extra package onto puddle-jumper planes, then into Landrovers over tracks that are roads in name only is beyond the call of duty. Except for Melissa.

“Please tell Leticia how much people here loved her gift. I can’t exaggerate what it means to them. I’m going to write about it on the IRC Web site.”

She did. I’m going to quote the last few lines of her story:

“As I was planning this trip to Chad, I promised (Nina) that I would deliver Ms. Jennings’ blankets to mothers with young children who came to our medical clinic at the Oure Cassoni refugee camp for vaccinations and exams.

“Today, as harsh and bitterly cold winds whipped through the camp, I’m happy to say I was able to do just that.

“As I handed each mother one of Ms. Jennings’ beautifully sewn quilts, I explained to them that there is a woman far away who heard about their plight, who is concerned with their safety and the future of their children and that she made the blankets to keep their babies warm at night.

“The Sudanese women looked at me somewhat incredulously, but were appreciative and grateful. They wrapped their children in the blankets right away and I took some pictures. I can’t wait to send them to Ms. Jennings.”

Perhaps Melissa should include a picture of another gallant lady. Herself. I hope it’s quiet in Bahai today.

Nick Clooney writes for The Post every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. E-mails sent to Nick at nickclooney@cincypost.com will be forwarded to him via regular mail. Or write him at The Cincinnati Post, 125 E. Court St., Cincinnati, Ohio 45202.

The current conventional wisdom, voiced by the president and parroted by most of our public officials, is that if we leave, Iraq will fall into anarchy with civil war among the Sunnis, the Shiites and the Kurds. The failed state will become a terrorist haven or a prize to be fought over by its neighbors.

That is the conclusion under which our “best minds” are operating. But is it true? The president has said we must look at the “bigger picture.” He is right. But what he neglects to add is that his vision of the future is not the only one.

For instance, the nightmare scenario for other Muslim nations - Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Jordan, even Muslim countries in Southeast Asia - is much different. They believe America’s headlong invasion of secular Iraq has opened a Pandora’s Box of religious strife long thought to be fading into history or at least contained. The worldwide divide between majority Sunnis and minority Shiites now threatens fragile nations large and small.

Worse, it has left Shiite Iran the most powerful Muslim voice in the Middle East. That, in turn, has made the chronic restlessness of ambitious Shiite minorities reach critical mass in nations striving for moderation and progress. It has strengthened the hand of regressive Muslim fundamentalism everywhere.

All of that is, they believe, the direct result of our aggressive ignorance of a culture we decided to change by force of arms rather than the slower, surer force of economic example, at which we are experts.

Now we face this question: Will our leaving the battlefield help or hinder the pursuit of peace and progress in that historically backward religion? The truth is that nobody knows.

We must be suspicious of any public official who begins a sentence with, “One thing we know for sure…” because no one knows anything for sure in this context. History has been a cruel teacher on that matter.

As the end of our Civil War approached, the best minds were “sure” that pockets of Southern guerillas would fight from the hills of Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee and Alabama for generations and that Gen. Kirby Smith would form a rogue state in the “Trans-Mississippi” and fight on. God knows the South had troubles enough for the next century, but none were those predicted by the “best minds.”

Toward the end of World War II those “best minds” told us of Germany’s “National Redoubt” in the foothills of the Alps where fanatical Nazis would extend the war for decades. It turned out to be a myth.

The same “best minds” were sure that our leaving Vietnam would set up the “domino effect” of Communist China filling the void and every other nation in Southeast Asia falling under Communism. There were terrible consequences for some Vietnamese, but none were those we predicted and now Vietnam is a trading partner welcoming President Bush for a visit.

Perhaps the aftermath of a pullout of American combat troops will have the result the current administration believes. Perhaps not. Isn’t it just as likely that our presence is the actual cause of the insurgency and the fuel for the sectarian violence so feared by Muslims everywhere? Isn’t it just as possible that we can be more help to the moderate forces there from afar than from the middle of the cauldron? Polls indicate the Iraqis themselves think so.

Finally, isn’t whatever is going to happen in Iraq just as likely to happen five years from tomorrow as it is tomorrow? Isn’t the only real difference the number of young Americans who will be killed in the meantime?

It is time we became our own “best minds.” We can’t do any worse.

Nick Clooney writes for The Post every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. E-mails sent to Nick at nickclooney@cincypost.com will be forwarded to him via regular mail.

Margie Prues of Norwood had a similar experience at almost the same time. September 26th, 1948, Margie, who was 18, married Don, who was 21.

“And here we were at the Alms Hotel, registering as Mr. and Mrs., feeling ill at ease, experiencing in 24 hours all these firsts: Getting married, being the bride, the center of attention … leaving my home, mom and dad who were so good to me, two younger brothers and a baby sister, all of whom I loved, first time in a hotel and, tomorrow, first train ride…. And so this union lasted 39 adventurous years until Don’s passing in 1988. We
were blessed with 11 children, 20 grandchildren and six great-grandchildren with two due this year.”

The Alms must have been Wedding Central. Read on. “I think I am the oldest relic in the tri-state at age 95,” writes Alma Meyers, whose birthday is tomorrow. “My sister Mary and I were both engaged and, it being the Depression, we thought we could save my Mom and Dad some money and have a double wedding. We were married at St. Francis De Sales Church on May 28th, 1938…. Where did we have our wedding dinner? At the Alms Hotel! At the time it was a ritzy place. I will never forget the happiest day of my life.”

This from Dorothy Siegel. “I attended many weddings, Bar and Bas Mitzvah, dinner parties, sorority and fraternity dances there…. I don’t think it was used by many business travelers or visitors, but had many permanent residents.”

Carlotta “Lottie” Crane has some wonderful memories, too. She met the man who would become her husband, Frank, in 1947. “Our first date was at the Alms bar. It was the hangout for the young crowd of ‘professional party-goers.’ They were something else; a shock to a girl trained by the Sacred Heart nuns! On our first date we sat on stools at the bar. I met  Angelo the bartender. Everyone called him Angie - Italian with an accent. I was such a
nervous innocent … that I ordered a ’scotch and bourbon.’ Frank almost fell off his stool!… At the time the corps de ballet rehearsed (at the Alms) when Schuster-Martin wasn’t available. This is where I trained and was in the ballet from age 14 until Frank and I were married in 1951.”

Marilyn Shaver added a few tidbits. “In re-reading ‘Remember With Me’ by Ruth Lyons, I learned that the Columbia Broadcasting System had decided to build new studios and offices in the Alms Hotel. During the period of hard rain preceding the 1937 flood, Ruth and the other radio staff were given rooms at the Alms should they be needed…. Also (in another book) I learned that America’s first female serial killer to die in the electric chair - Anna Marie Hahn - became a chambermaid at the 500-room Alms Hotel in 1929.”

Mildred Didlake remembered many UC fraternity dances were held at the Alms, then added this footnote. “In the depths of the cellar was the home of the Cincinnati Revolver Club. It was lit with very few bulbs, one for the shooters and a few for the targets. My brother … practiced there many nights a week. It was an honor to be allowed to go down there with him - I was seven or eight - but creepy as all get-out.”

Many of you remembered fondly the Harris Rosedale Sunday morning Amateur Hour at the Alms, broadcast on WKRC.

On to other hotels. Three of you wrote to tell me that the famous Netherland Plaza, still going strong, began life as the “St. Nicholas Plaza,” but after a few months, another company threatened to sue because they claimed to own that name, so it was changed.

At least 10 of you made reference to the “Coal Hole” nightspot at the Sinton where the great Shirley Jester held sway at the piano. Ernie Stevens, whom many will remember as Captain at the elegant Maisonette restaurant for 30 years, recalled “A restaurant downstairs at the Fountain Square Hotel. One would have dinner and, thereafter, the tablecloths would be removed, the glass tabletops would be illuminated from below, and the
entertainment would begin.”

This has been great fun. Thanks for your memories.

Nick Clooney writes for The Post every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. E-mails sent to Nick at nickclooney@cincypost.com will be forwarded to him via regular mail.

Bill Bender writes: “My parents, Arthur and Eleanore Bender, had their wedding reception at the Alms in 1940. Dad told me more than once of an occasion he was in the elevator at the hotel when Phil Harris and Alice Faye joined him in the lift. It was obvious that Ms. Faye was having an issue and made her exit in a ‘huff’ ahead of her husband. Mr. Harris turned to dad with a smile and arms up toward the elevator ceiling and in his famous raspy voice said: ‘Dames … ain’t they somethin’? and left several feet behind Alice.”

Frank D’Elia, senior production engineer at WABC radio in New York, remembers: “From 1960 through 1965 my family spent several months each summer in Cincinnati and the Alms Hotel was our home away from home. My Mom and Dad were members of the Metropolitan Opera Chorus in New York … (and became) a part of the Cincinnati Summer Opera’s chorus…. I have memories of the apartment (complete with Murphy bed) and of days spent around the swimming pool…. That was my first experience ordering food around a swimming pool and a cheeseburger and iced tea never tasted quite so good.”

John Wilson bolstered Frank’s point: “The Alms became the Opera stars’ place of summer residence…. At the Alms pool, the wonderful baritone Sherrill Milnes would exchange pleasantries, but once (only) briefly, as he had to study his music for the evening performance.”

Irma Schuster included a ticket for a New Year’s Eve dance on December 31st, 1958, at the Marie Antoinette Ball Room, Hotel Alms. “My husband-to-be proposed to me that night.”

Carol Thieman sent a charming swizzle stick depicting a uniformed cocktail waitress from the Mermaid Lounge at the Alms. “We have fond memories of the Mermaid Lounge. Many evenings spent there - before children - drinking and dancing.”

This from Patty Winter Long: “I was born in 1929. My father, Earl J. Winter, and my mother lived at the Alms Hotel in 1928. Dad was public relations director for Xavier University. Many dances were held at the Alms for various X.U. functions, so instead of a sitter, my first few months were spent in a dresser drawer at the Alms.”

Mike Finn of Columbus adds: “My grandfather, James J. Finn, also worked at the Alms. He started there in 1891 after arriving from County Sligo in Ireland…. The hotel hired many Irish immigrants…. One fellow I communicated with was Jimmy Finn (no relation), who said he was the very best dishwasher at the Alms…. I could tell he was very proud of this title.”

“It was a great hotel!” Both sisters had wedding functions there…. Classmates and I appeared on a show called ‘Hello Teacher’ at WKRC on a Sunday; we were 8th graders from St. Agnes in Bond Hill…. I later went to St. X. and ended up in class 2-A in 1949-50 with a guy named Nick Clooney. Regards, Dan Dougherty.”

Marie Caruso has a sweet memory: “I sold Girl Scout cookies to the Alms Hotel chef in the late ’50s…. He bought 50 boxes and I won the contest!”

Both Jack Avril and Gordon Strauss remember that “Madame Halina Feodorova taught dance there for decades for fifth- through eighth-grade boys and girls. She was a famous Russian ballerina who moved here in the teens for whatever reason … very elegant, very tough.”

There are many more memories of the Alms and other hotels, now long gone. We’ll continue Monday.

Nick Clooney writes for The Post every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. E-mails sent to Nick at nickclooney@cincypost.com will be forwarded to him via regular mail.