Ohio, Mother of Presidents and Astronauts

This made my day: "Always musically inclined, Neil joined the school orchestra, boys' glee club, and band. Despite his small size, he played one of the largest instruments, the baritone horn, because he liked its distinctive tone... Neil even lent his baritone to a neighborhood ragtime combo... the Mississippi Moonshiners' one paying job was a two-night gig playing Spike Jones tunes at grange halls in nearby Uniopolis and St. John -- for five dollars to be split four ways."

The "Neil" in question is Neil Armstrong, since I'm reading First Man, subtitled "The Life of Neil Armstrong" by James R. Hansen (2005). Armstrong played baritone in high school, and I have to like that -- so did I. Years ago also getting a kick reading (I think in his obituary) that Hubert Humphrey did too. Offhand I can't think of any other famous people who did, but surely there must be more.

Also interesting to note: "For most of the history of the US space program, a greater number of astronauts have come from Ohio than any other state. Still today... Ohio ranks first in terms of astronauts per capita, with one native-born astronaut for every 662,000 people."

Birthplace of Presidents & 5-Way Chili

On Monday, we went looking for President and Chief Justice Taft’s birthplace and boyhood home, now a national historic site in the middle of Cincinnati, but had no luck in finding it. I’d thought about printing out a locator map before leaving home, but blew it off. On Sunday when a laptop was in our room, I had another opportunity to pin down Mr. Taft, but neglected to use the hotel’s wifi to get the information. I figured there would be signs.

Wrong. Mostly wrong, anyway. There was, on I-71 heading north from the Ohio-Kentucky line, one that told us to use exit 2 to find the Taft NHS. That was it. No other guidance afterwards, so we wandered around a while. Which has a value all of its own, if you’re open to it. We discovered, for example, that the Over the Rhine neighborhood, long ago a German immigrant community, really isn’t a place you want to linger in the early 21st century.

Ohio being the birthplace of presidents, there were other presidential sites for us to miss too. Coming into the state of Ohio on US 50, there’s William Henry Harrison’s burial site. It’s supposed to be in North Bend, Ohio, maybe three miles east of the Indiana-Ohio border. I kept looking for a sign, but must have missed it. By the time I figured out that it was behind us, I didn’t want to bother with turning around.

Finally, US Grant’s birthplace is on the Ohio River some miles southeast of Cincinnati. I’ve seen his tomb, his home near St. Louis and another home in Galena, Ill., so the birthplace would have been a nice addition. But time was short, and it was out of the way.

Ah, well, just another few reasons to visit Cincinnati again someday, besides the fact that my nephew goes to school there now, and all the other cool places we missed. But at least I got to try 5-way chili. Five way because it contains beef, spaghetti, beans, onions, and cheddar cheese in a chili sauce base. By visiting a Gold Star location, one of a local chain, I suspect I got a mediocre version of the dish. Still, not bad. But I had to wonder—spaghetti? Who thought of that?

Queen of the West

Labor Day is over and I was sure I was going to have polished off most of my major paying assignments by now. I was more than half right, but I’m not quite as far along as I’d like. So I’ll be brief. Or maybe not.

But it was Labor Day weekend, and the thing not to do on Labor Day or its weekend is work. The thing to do is drive to Cincinnati by way of south-central Indiana and then come back. We got a late start on Saturday and so didn’t see much that day, one or another of us had a cold the whole time, and my advice to travelers to Cincinnati, Queen of the West, is to take a good map. My fuzzy memories of an hour’s visit to downtown in 1989 were useless in navigating, and my Rand McNally Road Atlas wasn’t much better—no detailed closeup of downtown or really any part of town.

Also, we ran slap into the biggest riverfront event of the year in metro Cincinnati, both sides of the river, a Labor Day Sunday fireworks show over the Ohio River, which bollixed traffic and parking near our hotel.

Sounds like a lousy trip. But on balance, it wasn’t. There were plenty of bright spots among the aggravations:

We got to visit my brother Jay and nephew Sam, who were in town -- Sam’s now a graduate student in architecture at the University of Cincinnati, and Jay was helping him move in.

We managed to drive two lovely yet lightly traveled roads, one in south-central Indiana south of the town of Nashville, the other hugging the north shore of the Ohio River across from Kentucky.

The fireworks over the Ohio River might have been bad for traffic, but on foot that night we saw explosions framed by the grand old Roebling Bridge.

Had a delicious lunch in a seemingly unlikely place, Aurora, Indiana, and while the 5-way chili at Gold Star Chili in Covington, Kentucky, really wasn’t better than mediocre, it was good to try it, and support regional cuisine.

We chanced on Eden Park, a venerable old Cincinnati park, and took a good walk there. From there we watched a Stealth fighter fly by a few times as part of the festivities along the river.

We visited Cincinnati’s Union Station on Jay’s recommendation, because we could find that and not the William Howard Taft NHS. Completed: 1931. Interior Space: Vaulting. Restored murals on the walls: Intriguing. A fine structure all around.

Item from the Past: Summer of ’99

July 8, 1999

Had a good Fourth of July weekend hereabouts. High point was the fireworks by the towns of Westmont, Woodridge and Downers Grove. Which means, being a taxpayer in Westmont, I paid a bit to put ’em on, and it’s a fine way to spend public money, too. We watched the show from a large parking lot; us and a lot of other people, sitting out side their cars on folding chairs. Even Lilly paid some attention, though she was a little scared of the noise.

The day before, we spent some time the day before at Navy Pier, an excellent public space that juts into Lake Michigan downtown. Lilly had the best time of all, finding short sets of stairs to climb up and down (a current favorite of hers). There was a band, and Lilly danced -- wobbled, really—to their tunes, which was a seriously cute activity.

About my recent to Grand Rapids, never mind the town itself. The best parts of the trip were the flights over and back, on Jetstream 31 propeller airplanes, seating about 20. It was a little like being inside a flying lawnmower, but the view was splendid, especially on the return, when there were few clouds. We flew at about 8,000 feet, according to the pilot, and generally followed the coast of southern Lake Michigan, so I could see some of the parklands, the lakeside towns, and, in Indiana, the active and inactive steel mills.

Later I went to Columbus, Ohio, was to conduct a Columbus roundtable, which I did—14 or so local real estate types, sitting around a conference room, eating breakfast, responding to my questions and often, each other.

Currently, there’s a quarrel between the owners of an older mall (a Cincinnati company) and a Columbus developer who wants to build a new one using tax-increment financing, which is essentially a local tax break. Of course, it’s really a quarrel between competitors, but it’s being portrayed as a matter of public interest by both sides.

Columbus seemed pleasant enough, a Nashville-sized city. Before I went, I only knew a few things about it -- it’s the capital of the state, and Thurber’s hometown (I had to tell my young associate editor who that was). Also, Wendy’s started there. The Ohio state capitol isn’t impressive. It, like Tennessee’s, is Greek Revival, but not nearly as elegant.

Even the inside was spare, with a few monuments to obscure pioneers of Ohio, heroes of the Great Rebellion, moldy governors, etc. Some of the statuary outside was well done, however: a good Spanish-American war memorial, and a prominent larger-than-life of President McKinley, erected a few years after his assassination, with words to the effect that such a man’s fame would shine through the mists of time. Uh-huh.