It’s safe to say that participants in Cork ‘N Bottle and wineCRAFT’s “A Tour of the Old World” learned a thing or two. Tastebuds and schnozzes were pushed to the breaking point, made to cry like little babies, then shown that, actually, they had wings and could fly. Sommeliers imparted their secret knowledge. Notes were taken; bottles bought; lively conversation and laughter had. Among the French bottles, I found my perfect pairing . . . for a long summer bicycle through the fields of Southern Ohio: a 2012 Domaine du Salvard, Cheverny Rose from the Loire Valley. What’s yours? Cheers and thanks, wineCRAFT and Cork ‘N Bottle.
According to, Galleycat, this sign is “going viral”. So in keeping with the good news that a book shop is opening off Fountain Square, we are acting as a vector. -ed scripsi
Mercantile member Justin Patrick Moore, who recently interviewed past Merc. President and author Dale Patrick Brown , has just interviewed Cincinnati Preservation Association director Paul Muller about the challenges of preserving modern architecture. This week, the CPA is having a symposium on preserving modern architecture in the Midwest.
The 6th annual Cincinnati USA Books by the Banks Book Festival went swimmingly. Attendance is estimated to have topped 5000 visitors who enjoyed mascot dance parties, cooking demos, kids corners, panel discussions, and some good old face-time with the people who write the books–and blogs–you love to read. The variety of this festival is staggering: from headliners with lines of adoring fans to authors with smaller, which is not to say less interested audiences. The Petersiks of Young House Love fell into the former category, and and Michael Nye, editor of The Missouri Review and author of the short story collection Strategies Against Extinction, reflects on his blog on the meaning of long lines and different forms in the book festival of today and tomorrow. The Petersiks also offered their take on, as they put it, “Nerding it Up in the Nasty ‘Nati.”
Last week’s By the Book lecture featured anthropologist, History Detective and Antiques Roadshowman Wes Cowan speaking on books that have influenced his career. A consummate showman, Wes was kind enough to permit this recording of his presentation. Apologies for my less than ideal microphone position–the first minute is somewhat quiet, but gets much louder after that.
To listen, press play on the widget below.
I was taking this picture of rental bikes when Jared, who describes Chicago’s bike center as his former baby, came out of the uber-spanking-modern bike shop at the front of the Cincinnati Bike Center just to say hello. I was immediately ushered in for a full tour, of the facilities. Boy are they swank. The shop offers bike tuneups and repairs. Strangest of all, while the staff was obviously hip, they lacked the dour, “you’re not worthy of staring at my tattoos” attitude one comes to expect from bike mechanics these days. Jared took me back to the lockup room and even let me load my bike onto the second level rack. It only took me two tries and resembled, on the whole, the bike carriers on the bus, except that instead of a bunch of angry busriders giving me the stink eye as I hold up their commute, I was aided by some friendly bike station staffers who told me they liked the color of my ride. Secure lockup in a soothing, well-insulated bike-cave is great, but the jewel in the crown of this bike station has got to be the showers, as well as its overall greenness. Jared explained that the facilities feature geothermal heating, solar panels, and flush-less toilets. I overcame the insipient creepiness of taking photos in a bathroom to share with the world the niceness that is the Cincinnati Bike Station’s showers.
Look at that hardware! Is that a detachable spray head? Gaze upon the future of your de-sweatified, post-mid-summer-cycle-commute, and be amazed. Jared explained that something called “water” comes shooting out of this thing that helps cyclists arrive at the office looking less like a “greasy messenger”. I resolved to arrive sometime in my full length Victorian-style bathing attire and give the setup a try.
What’s that you say? All this must be super expensive? Crazily enough, an annual pass will get you daily use of this state of the art cycler’s paradise for the low, low price of $12–that’s one twelve pack of beer–a month. Daily use is $2 and $2 for a towel. I forgot to ask whether you can bring your own. Their brochure includes a great cycling map… studying this, I realized how perfect their location–a hub, if you’ll excuse the term–between the soon-to-be completed lengths of Ohio River Way and Mill Creek Greenspace trails. -Ed Scripsi
Spring being the season when folk “longen to goon on pilgrimages”, we thought we would make several pilgrimages of a humanist nature to area libraries. First up: The Lloyd Library and Museum.
It’s easy to pass the Lloyd Library at the corner of Court and Plum without realizing the wealth it contains. If civilization looks like it’s finally decided to collapse, you’ll find me knocking on this botanical and pharmaceutical library’s front door with freshly baked cookies, canned goods, and all the toothpaste I can find in the hope of bribing my way into its five levels, the lowest of which was once probably outfitted as a fallout shelter by former Lloyd librarian Corinne Miller Simon given her predilection for Civil Defense. Reinforced concrete ribs stand closely spaced across the ceiling, suggesting Armageddon-proof engineering on the part of the building’s 1970s architects. It all began as the collection of three pharmacist brothers, John Uri, Nelson Ashley, and Curtis Gates Lloyd. John Uri might be the most famous, the all-around Renaissance man, renowned in scientific circles and the eccentric author of novels like the fantastic Etidorhpa (Aphrodite, spelled backwards). Clifton Avenue makes a sudden right-hand turn in the Gaslight District to avoid running straight into his magnificent home. Nelson Ashley was the “George Bailey” of the three, passing up dreams of piloting a riverboat to become the money-savvy backbone of Lloyd Brothers Pharmacists Inc. The youngest, Curtis Gates Lloyd, is the favorite of Betsy Kruthoffer, MLS, the Lloyd’s Cataloger, who has agreed to show me around. Read More
Despite coming to share Mrs. Trollope’s general scorn of the Americans, Dickens said some nice things about Cincinnati. His accounts in American Notes for General Circulation paint a vivid portrait of a teeming metropolis, albeit one reached by steamboats, the kinks of which, vis a vis personal safety, had yet to be worked out. Here is a sample etext. And here.
Speaking of Dickens, if you told me yesterday that a new Dickensian TV Comedy Series was coming to the BBC, I would have slapped the cup of earl grey out of your hand. But then it turns out the BBC has been poking fun at Dickens all along.
Former Price Hill resident George Remus has been getting a lot of publicity recently, what with the airing of Ken Burn’s acclaimed “on-the-rocks-umentary”, Prohibition, and showing up in HBO’s Boardwalk Empire. Some theorize Remus was the inspiration for Fitzgerald’s Jay Gatsby, and it’s easy to see why. He was, like Gatsby, a bootlegger. He presented guests at lavish parties with diamond jewelry and cars. That he met F. Scott Fitzgerald at the Seelbach Hotel in Louisville (the rathskeller of which sports Rookwood tile) is likely, and while a bartender at the Seelbach claims to possess a photo of Remus and Fitzgerald, I wonder if this isn’t legend, as well as the claim that the novel began there as notes on cocktail napkins. Sounds like just the sort of mythology that comes to be under the influence of bourbon. Fitzgerald frequented, and was apparently once forcefully ejected from the hotel while training to be deployed for WWI, not the sort of lifestyle conducive to the production of great literature–although this is, after all, Fitzgerald, so who knows? Whatever the case, Remus was a truly epic American character, and his saga remains a fascinating read. Here is a particularly pithy version on cincinnativiews.net (scroll to the bottom and abandon all time, ye local history buffs who enter here). -Ed Scripsi