Category Archives: Attraction

Went to Gogh

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I drove to Columbus on Wednesday to immerse myself in Vincent Van Gogh. You might be aware that Van Gogh: The Immersive Experience will be opening in Cincinnati in June. If so, I’d expect you to ask, “Why not wait? It’s the same thing isn’t it?” Well, no. No, it’s not.

There are currently five different digital Van Gogh exhibits touring the United States and triggering a flurry of bad puns. The one I saw in Columbus is Immersive Van Gogh. It is also currently in Cleveland. The one in Indianapolis at present is called Van Gogh Alive. Beyond Indianapolis, Beyond Van Gogh: An Immersive Experience is playing in St. Louis. All four of these have appeared or will appear in several cities other than the ones I’ve mentioned. The fifth exhibit, Imagine Van Gogh: The Immersive Exhibition just opened in Boston and will open in Seattle in March. Those two cities are the only stops currently planned for that exhibit. AFAR has a rundown on all five here.

So which is best? Having seen only one, I have no idea. I went to Columbus for a couple of reasons. One is that I didn’t want to wait. Another is that I’d read a very positive report from a friend I haven’t met. It’s here. She immediately followed her Immersive Van Gogh experience by taking in a related display at the Columbus Museum of Art. That’s described here. I decided I should do that too although, because of ticket availability, I visited the two exhibits in the opposite order.

The picture at the top of this article is of the big ART sculpture near the Columbus Museum of Art. The picture at left is at the entrance to the Through Vincent’s Eyes: Van Gogh and His Sources exhibit inside the museum. The title comes from the more than 100 works from artists that Van Gogh admired and was influenced by. These include Paul Gauguin, Claude Monet, and many others. For me, however, the real draw of the exhibit was the seventeen pieces by Van Gogh himself.

I am neither an art connoisseur nor an art historian. I don’t doubt that there are several pieces in the exhibit that are more significant, but these three caught my eye for one reason or another. Bridge across the Seine at Asnieres caught my eye at least partially because it was both different from images I’d previously associated with Van Gogh and similar to images I’ve frequently captured myself with a camera. The bright gold of Wheat Field seemed even more different from the admittedly limited set of Van Gogh images that set my expectations. Neither of these paintings contains people and I think I’d really come to expect people in Van Gogh’s work. Undergrowth with Two Figures, which obviously does contain people, caught my eye through its reproduction in a jigsaw puzzle that passing visitors worked on now and then.

From the museum, I headed a few miles north to the Immersive Van Gogh Experience at Lighthouse ArtSpace. The exhibit opened on October 28 and was originally scheduled to close on January 2. It was sufficiently popular, however, to trigger an extension to February 27.

The 60,000 frames of video appear primarily on the walls but sometimes spill onto the floor and other horizontal surfaces. The giant images are far from static. For example, the purple irises slowly pop onto the green grass background until it is nearly covered and they are almost always in motion.

Neither proof of COVID vaccination nor a negative test is required for admission but a mask must be worn at all times. Circles are projected onto the floor to aid in social distancing. I had expected all of these to be “unfurnished” and many were but more than half contained a simple bench. I had anticipated sitting on the floor but was happy to see the benches. For those of us of a certain age, rising from a bench is much much easier than rising from a floor. Cushions, with a Van Gogh sunflower, are included in VIP ticket packages, and I believe they can be rented. I made do with self cushioning.

The space is basically open but it is large and there are a few pillars. They are covered with a mirror-like surface that avoids blank spots while adding some interesting variations of its own. I doubt you would have guessed and may not find it even after being told it’s there, but one of these pictures contains a funhouse-mirror-style selfie.

I suppose these are the sorts of images my mind tended to associate with Van Gogh in the past. I enjoyed seeing them but probably benefited more from being reminded that he produced some bright and pleasant images too.

These photos were taken with an exposure that makes the exhibit area look quite a bit brighter than it ever really appeared in person. Hopefully, they provide an idea of just how big the area was and how it was laid out.

Wow! The immersive exhibit was wild and entertaining. The original music was splendid and added considerably to the experience. At the end of the day, however, I think I liked the Van Gogh and His Sources exhibit more. The sequence that I saw them in could have something to do with that but I don’t think so. At Lighthouse ArtSpace, it was the presentation and the machinery behind it that held my attention. At the museum, my attention was pulled in by Van Gogh’s actual product and, on occasion, the stories behind it. Both exhibits were well worthwhile, and they do complement each other. It even kind of makes sense, perhaps, to end the day’s doubleheader looking at the eyes that I started the day by trying to look through.

A Hanukkah Drive-Thru

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I’m not really sure what to think about Rockwern Academy’s drive-through Hanukkah display. On one hand, this new addition to Cincinnati’s holiday attractions is clearly making a lot of people happy. On the other, it is a little sad to see what seems to be one religion feeling compelled to compete with another. Of course, it could just be an example of a religion making a small concession to the modern world. Let’s go with that. It’s way too easy to overthink the whole thing. 

As I pulled into the display on Monday, a greeter offered some guidance and tips such as turning off headlights. She also held up a big QR code to help connect a smartphone to the school’s website and a soundtrack. The connection can also be made by manually entering the site’s address. The soundtrack is a brief introduction followed by recordings of students singing a number of Hanukkah songs. I scanned the QR code, connected my phone to the car’s sound system, and entered the display surrounded by happy young (the school is K-6) voices. I’m sure the owners of some of those voices appear in the slideshow of school scenes projected on a large screen near the beginning of the display.

The display is believed to be a first for Cincinnati. There is online evidence that something similar existed in nearby Dayton, Ohio, last year but that seems to have been a one-time pandemic-inspired thing. The folks at Rockwern say theirs will be back bigger and better next year.

I’ve never been Jewish although I once claimed to be 1/8 Jewish because my wife was 1/4 Jewish. I really don’t know much about Jewish traditions. I did know that Hanukkah celebrates a lamp’s one-day supply of oil lasting for eight days back in 3622 (139 B.C.E.). And I did know that the celebration lasts for eight days with a candle being lighted on each of those days. I even knew that those candles were held by something called a menorah but I did not know that menorahs come in two configurations. A Hanukkah menorah holds nine candles. The center candle is used to light the others, which represent the eight days of miraculous lamplight.

As I poked around the internet while writing this, I was seriously confused by the seven candle menorahs I saw. I’ve certainly seen plenty of them in the past but they just hadn’t registered. The seven candle menorah predates the miracle of the oil. If there was ever a single universally accepted explanation for its seven branches, it seems to have been lost to history. I’ve found references to the seven days of creation, the seven days of mourning associated with a death, and (from pre-telescope days) the five planets plus the earth and moon.

I also noticed what I thought was a significant number of bears in Hanukkah-related images. Almost all are the cuddly Teddy Bear type like in the opening photo. The internet was of no help in explaining then so I asked a Jewish friend. She knew of no official connection and theorized that their popularity might be due to being able to dress them like humans in displays such as this. It’s possible, we decided, that the whole thing just might be a Build-A-Bear scheme to increase the holiday market for their product.

Even though today, December 5, is the final day of Hanukkah 2021, the last chance to experience the display was last night. The first was last Sunday meaning that not one of this blog’s regular Sunday morning posts occurred during the event. If you missed it because you’re depending on me for Jewish holiday alerts, you are clearly meshuggah.

Another Covered County Covered

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When I took in Preble County Covered Bridges a couple of weeks ago, there was actually another Ohio county in the running for the “honor”. Fairfield County rivals Ashtabula County for the number of covered bridges and is much closer. Of course, Preble County is closer still and I decided to save Fairfield for a day when there was a chance that the trees would be more colorful. Friday was that day but, even though there were some mighty colorful trees here and there, I never did find that picturesque little bridge framed with orange and gold that I envisioned.

Unlike the rather spontaneous Preble County jaunt, I actually did some advance planning for this outing. I started at the Charles Holliday Bridge (#1) on the Millersport Lions Club Sweet Corn Festival grounds. This happens to be bridge #1 in the Fairfield County Covered Bridge Trail Guide but I did not visit the bridges in the sequence they are numbered in the guide. I started with the bridge farthest from my home then hit the rest in a very crude horseshoe pattern. The numbers following each bridge name are from the guide, however.

My second stop was at the R.F. Baker Bridge (#12) behind the Fairfield Union School. It’s not visible from the parking lot but directions from a friendly student got me there. This is the closest thing I found to that bridge framed by autumn colors in my mind’s eye. You have probably figured out that this is the bridge in the opening photograph and you may have also figured out that it is my favorite.

The John Raab Bridge (#8) is on private property and some distance from the road. I think it was possible that I could have gotten permission from the owner for a closer look but I just settled for a shot from the road with a longer lens mounted. That lens was still on the camera when I started to pull away and spotted a fox scurrying across the open field.

I made my Preble County bridge post a member of the My Cabbodles series but not this one. The reason is that two of Fairfield County’s listed bridges are inaccessible inside a park that is temporarily closed. I believe the address I had matches that of the pictured house although I saw nothing that indicated a park. Nonetheless, I think Mae Hummel Bridge (#9) and Shade Bridge (#14) are around here somewhere.

Only four of Fairfield County’s seventeen covered bridges remain at their original locations and three of them are pictured here. At first glance, I thought all three might have had the same builder but that’s not so. The Johnston Bridge (#7) was built by Augustus Borneman while the Mink Hollow Bridge (#11) was built by Jacob Brandt. No builder is identified for the Hanaway Bridge (#3).

Both of these bridges have been moved, but they still cross water and they are still in use although traffic is now pedestrian-only. The George Hutchins Bridge (#2) serves foot traffic in Alley Park while the McCleery Bridge (#10) helps folk cross Fetters Run on the Lancaster Bike Path.

The John Bright #2 Bridge (#6) has also been moved, still crosses water, and serves pedestrians. Like the McCleery Bridge, it is on Fetters Run and the Lancaster Bike Path. Its description states that it is the “gateway to Lancaster Festival concerts at Ohio University”. I’m guessing those concerts take place in the large open field beyond the bridge.

Rock Mill Bridge (#13) is the fourth covered bridge in Fairfield County surviving in its original location. The mill after which it is named also survives right next to it. The Fairfield County Covered Bridge Trail Guide claims that “At one time, every U.S. Embassy in the world displayed a photo of Rock Mill Bridge.” I haven’t yet found anything online to explain or confirm that so I’ve sent a query to the Fairfield County Ohio Visitors and Convention Bureau and will update this with any information I receive.

Here’s a bridge that has been relocated to a spot that once had water but no longer does. The Hartman #2 Bridge (#4) now sits astride what was once the Ohio & Erie Canal between Lock 11 South and Lock 12 South. The stone walls of Lock 12 South can be seen beyond the bridge in the third picture.

The Shryer Bridge (#15) is on private property with no obvious place to pull over so I really did grab a driveby shot of it. Inside Sycamore Creek Park, the relocated Zeller-Smith (#17) serves as the entrance to an arboretum. The Stemen House Bridge (#16) was relocated and shortened from 72 to 36 feet in length. Damaged and decayed parts were discarded during the move but the half that was saved was so good that now stands as the only public covered bridge in the county open to vehicles.

I had to add the word “public” to the previous sentence since this privately owned bridge is open to vehicles driven by the owner or friends. The Hizey Bridge (#5) once crossed Poplar Creek but has been moved to form part of an impressive private driveway.

If that park is ever opened and those two other bridges become accessible, I suppose I might go see them. Then I can republish these pictures as a caboodle. But the truth is that I was a little disappointed in the covered bridges of Fairfield County and it had little to do with the two hidden bridges or not finding the perfect wall of orange and gold leaves. It had to do with there being only two drivable bridges (one if you’re me) in the lot and so many that weren’t actually bridges at all anymore. By that, I mean those sitting in fields that don’t cross over anything that needs crossing. By contrast, six of the eight Preble County bridges were drivable and all nine of the Ashtabula County bridges I visited in 2019 were drivable. There are ten other covered bridges in Ashtabula County that I have not visited and about which I’ll make no claims.

On the other hand, even those that were sitting in someone’s yard, crossing nothing and accessible by no one, had escaped destruction. I’m reminded of something Tod Swormstedt of the American Sign Museum often says. According to Tod, the best way to preserve a sign is in its original setting doing what it was designed to do. Preserving them in museums and private collections isn’t nearly as good but is better than the scrap heap. I guess that applies to bridges, too. I prefer my historic bridges in the wild carrying vehicles over some body of water just like they were designed to do. Parks and private settings aren’t nearly as good — but they’re better than the scrap heap.

Following Morgan

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Once upon a time, a hostile military force passed less than four miles from where I live. I wasn’t here at the time. I wasn’t anywhere yet. It was 1863 and Confederate soldiers commanded by General John Hunt Morgan were on their way to reaching as far north as any Confederate soldiers ever would. That would occur on July 26 when Morgan and what was left of his troops were captured near Salineville, Ohio. On Monday, my friend, Terry, and I set out to retrace the Indiana and Ohio portions of Morgan’s three-state raid. Even though it was a slaveholding state, Kentucky did not join the Confederacy so Morgan was technically in enemy territory as soon as he entered the state but things really got interesting when he crossed the Ohio River. That’s where Terry and I started our raid following.

In the opening photograph, which looks across the Ohio River into Indiana from Brandenburg, KY, the raid is the subject of the metal marker and is noted on the stone marker. Both are overshadowed by a seventy-foot Confederate Veterans Monument that was moved here from Louisville, KY, in 2016. Louisville was beginning to think that distancing itself from the Confederacy might be a good idea but not so Brandenburg. Plaques at the monument’s new location tell its original history along with the story of its move. A “Southern Causes for the Civil War” plaque has a noticeable Confederate spin but does present something of a list of perceived causes. A “Northern Causes for the Civil War” plaque properly identifies a cause as “resistance to southern succession” then fills the panel with “things the Yankees did that pissed us off”.

Morgan spent eighteen days traveling through Indiana and Ohio. We spent four. We were traveling faster — and more comfortably — of course, plus we had the advantage of a path marked by signs and documented in guidebooks. The books used were “The John Hunt Morgan Heritage Trail in Indiana” by Lora Schmidt Cahill and “Morgan’s Raid Across Ohio” by Lora Schmidt Cahill and David L. Mowery. The signed route and the route described in the books do occasionally differ. I suspect that the signed route bypasses some of the rougher roads but I’m not certain of that and there may be other reasons for differences. Whatever the reasons, the differences are not many. We stopped at most of the sites marked by interpretive signs or called out in the books but did miss a few — sometimes intentionally, sometimes by accident. Only a few of those stops are covered in this post. It’s a brief recounting of our “raid”, not Morgan’s.

This is the Battle of Corydon Historic Site. I’ve included it to point out that the flag being flown to represent the Confederacy is the first official flag of the Confederate States of America. It is often referred to as the “Stars and Bars”. Artifacts from the steamboat Alice Dean, which Morgan sank after using it in crossing the Ohio River, are displayed here.

In the spirit of cordless phones, unleaded gas, and mirrorless cameras, this is a bridgeless creek. Terry looked over the ford at Big Graham Creek and spoke with a mother and a couple of kids beside the creek before deciding to take the plunge. Just as we started across, a pickup appeared on the opposite bank and entered the water without a pause. He passed us mid-stream on our left as a Jeep pulling a trailer followed us. Indiana may have to post some “congested ford” signs if that level of traffic continues.

Apparently, I grabbed no photos of the trail signs in Indiana. These are in Ohio. The first is at the Harrshaville Covered Bridge which was one of the few bridges crossed but not burned by the raiders. It was renovated in 2013. The U-turn sign is near Rock Springs Park where some of the raiders rested briefly. I’ve included it to show how well the driving tour is marked.

This is Buffington Island Battlefield Memorial Park. This is where things started to unravel for Morgan. Union forces met up with the raiders as they attempted to cross the Ohio River into the recently established (June 20, 1863) West Virginia. Some made it, some were captured, and some, including Morgan, escaped to run around Ohio for another week. “Run” is the appropriate word as Union troops were in close pursuit of the raiders from now on. Read the plaque on that stone marker here.

Here are a few of the more — but not most — interesting roads we traveled in Ohio. The low-water bridge on Hivnor Road over Island Run is as close as we came to a ford in the state.

Morgan’s men were involved in multiple skirmishes with federal troops, local militia, and even civilians. An encounter with Union forces at Old Washington left three of them dead. All three are buried in the town cemetery. In the past, these graves were marked by the X-barred Confederate Battle Flag, which has pretty much been usurped by modern white supremacists. I don’t know when the change was made. Here‘s a photo from 2010. There’s a closer look at one of those flag holders here.

The “Stars and Bars” was replaced as the official Confederate flag on May 1, 1863. It was not the official flag during any part of Morgan’s raid although it was undoubtedly carried by most of his troops. Here‘s a picture, taken at a spot nearer the end of the trail, of the flag, known as the “Stainless Banner”, that replaced the “Stars and Bars”. Of course, it’s unlikely that all flags were replaced in just a couple of months so any official Confederate national flag flown during the raid was probably the “Stars and Bars”. However, the flags at Old Washington and at the Corydon battle site contain just seven stars. That was indeed the way things started, but by November 28, 1861, long before Morgan headed north, the count had grown to thirteen. These flags are a welcome change from the battle flag and are closer to being the national flag at the time these guys died, but they’re still not quite right.

The yellow sign might mark the beginning of the most interesting road we traveled. The sign is itself rather interesting. “GPS route” is not an official designation so neither is “Not a GPS route. This and similar phrases seem to be a way of trying to tell truckers that, if their GPS is sending them down this road, it’s probably wrong. The road is quite steep and winding and neither Terry nor I got any pictures. We did get some shots at the bottom where Gould Road accompanies Long Run underneath the Wheeling & Lake Erie Railroad into Mingo Junction.

ADDENDUM Sep 3, 2022: This trip finally made me do something that I had been threatening. I bought a dashcam. Although I clearly do not have it mastered, I did get a video of this section on my second visit since our Morgan themed outing. Evidence that I’ve not mastered the camera is shown in the lack of sound and GPS and speed information but the “interesting road” can be seen here.

There was still a little daylight when we reached the point where Morgan and his remaining troops were captured. Terry took aim on the surrender marker and so did l. The plaque is here.

We pretty much used all the available daylight on each of the four days we spent covering the trail. The first three days had been completely dry and we even dodged much of the rain that started appearing on the afternoon of the fourth. We attributed our good luck regarding the rain to a black cat that had started to cross our path then stopped and turned around. We didn’t realize just how lucky we were until we got home. Wind and rain picked up as we drove from that “END” sign to our motel in Carrolton, but once we arrived, we temporarily lost all interest in weather. And weather wasn’t much of a factor when we drove home the next day. I was shocked when Terry called to tell me he had learned that several tornados had been sighted in Jefferson County on the day we reached the trail’s end. I was even more shocked to discover that, roughly half an hour before we took our surrender marker photos, a tornado had damaged twenty-three homes, a church, and a business about twenty-five miles away in Wintersville. Apparently, that cat turned around just in time.

ADDENDUM 26-Oct-2021: Even though this outing was not documented with daily posts in this site’s journal section, much of the mechanics behind it were pretty much the same as trips documented there. That includes the routing and tracking that allow locator maps to be made. So, I’m adding a locator map because I can.

Heritage Village Cincinnati

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Friday felt a little odd. It had absolutely nothing scheduled but it was surrounded by days that did. Noting strenuous or even particularly time-consuming, but there were meetings and appointments with specific times that had to be attended to. It would seem logical, I think, to want to just sit around the shanty on that uncommitted day, and that’s probably what I would have done if the day hadn’t promised sunshine and 80 degrees. I know it was my awareness that there would soon be a huge gap between 80 degree days that made me want to avoid wasting this one. I went out to breakfast at a place a little farther away than normal and which I hadn’t been to in a long time. Over a goetta and cheese omelet, I pondered ways to put the day to use. Museums weren’t high on my list because I did not want to spend a lot of time indoors, but I eventually used “museum” as an internet search term and got a near-perfect hit. Heritage Village Museum & Education Center is definitely a museum. It says it right there in the name. But it also says it’s a village which means there is some open space. It really did seem to be exactly what I was looking for.

It wasn’t far from the restaurant where I was eating, so I simply headed directly there when I was done. As I approached the building where admission fees are collected, I passed a sign stating that guided tours were scheduled for 10:00, 12:45, and 3:00. It was about 10:30. Inside the building, I joked that I’d timed my arrival quite badly for a guided tour. The attendant agreed and added something about the last one being yesterday. I eventually figured out that guided tours are given May through September, and that she meant the last one for the year. It was October 1. I somehow felt less foolish missing a tour by a day than by half an hour. I paid my admission. received a self-guided tour brochure, and set off to guide myself.

The first building encountered was also the first building moved into the village. Elk Lick House was from a spot in Clermont County that is now covered by East Fork Lake. The Chester Park Train Station and Crossing Tender’s Booth came from Winton Place across Spring Grove Avenue from Chester Park racetrack and amusement park. The McAlpin’s clock is one of the few things in the village I remember in its original location. It stood in front of the store on Fourth Street from 1992 to 1999. It was actually the fifth clock to stand there with the first four falling to “the elements and traffic mishaps”.

The Fetter Store came from what is now known as Owensville in Clermont County. It was built around 1866. Dr. Langdon’s Office was moved here in 1973 from the Linwood section of Cincinnati. Preparations for Halloween and trick-or-treating were in evidence behind the doctor’s office as well as in that tender’s booth back at the train station.

Myers Schoolhouse is the newest addition to the village and is actually still in the process of being restored. It was moved here in 2008. Its official name was Delhi Township District School #3. It was in use as a school from 1891 until 1926 when Delhi Township consolidated all of its schools.

After reaching the schoolhouse and turning around, the first building encountered is the Somerset Church. The Presbyterian church was built around 1829 and, until it was moved to the village in 1991, stood near Fields Ertel and Montgomery roads less than a mile from where I currently live. Next to the church is the Kemper Log House and a reproduction of its stone kitchen. The house that Rev. James Kemper built in 1804 is the oldest structure in the village. It originally stood near where Cincinnati’s Eden Park is today.

The Hayner House is both the beginning and end of the tour. It was built near South Lebanon in the 1850s. In the village, it faces Sharon Creek as it once faced the little Miami River. The entrance to the museum and gift shop, where tour tickets are purchased, is on the other side of the house. A glance down while walking between the creek and the house can provide a reminder as to just which state you are in.

Kim’s (Is) Back

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Not only is Kim’s Classic Diner back in operation, owner Kim Starr is back at the helm. After years of wanting to own a diner, a few more years shopping for the right one, and another year moving and rehabbing a 1946 Silk City, Kim seemed to be living her dream. That dream, however, was put on hold about a dozen years ago so that Kim could devote all of her energy to helping her daughter deal with life-threatening heart and lung issues. Now it is those threats that have been put on hold — hopefully forever — as daughter helps mom bring her diner back to life.

There were attempts to keep things going without Kim’s involvement. Over the years, the diner was leased to three different operators but all three failed as a business, a responsible leasee, or both. I remember two of them but must have missed the third one entirely. I know it can’t be easy to make a classic diner go in a town of well under 3,000, but every time I drove through Sabina and past the closed business, I thought to myself that this place would be hopping if Kim was still here.

Well, Kim is here now, and while the place may not yet be hopping all the time, it apparently is some of the time. Employees spoke of being “swamped” on occasion and a scan of the diner’s Facebook page shows that the daily specials have “SOLD OUT” more than once since the August 20 reopening. I was there on Friday for breakfast. It wasn’t swamped but I sure was not alone. I did my normal dawdling while other customers came and went and I think there were always between five and ten people eating with me.

My Friday visit was just one day shy of the eighteenth anniversary of the original opening. One of the reasons Kim had picked the second anniversary of the 2001 terrorist attacks for her opening date was the diner’s New York history. I was happy to see articles about that history back on the walls and especially happy to see that three mugs from those days (delivered to Kim by a visiting waitress) were back on the shelf. These were among the items that had gone home with Kim for safekeeping during her absence from the diner.

In addition to being one of the coolest diners within my extended neighborhood (It’s about 40 miles straight up US-22), Kim’s is special to me for another reason. It was the subject of the first of four Diner Days articles I wrote for American Road Magazine between 2006 and 2008. It was, in fact, the very first thing of mine published to the general public. In that article, I spoke of the use of car names for breakfast selections, and I am happy to report that that is once more the case. This time I had a Mercury.   

An Airy Plane Ride

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A couple of weeks ago I credited a blog post mentioned by another blog post with nudging me to revisit Hartman Rock Garden. However, it wasn’t the rock garden post that Jim Grey’s blog actually referenced and which prompted me to subscribe to Make the Journey Fun. It was this one: Deep Thoughts In Flight. It really struck a chord.

It was a chord that was just waiting to be struck. Flying in an open airplane had long been part of my own — not particularly deep — thoughts and blogger Brandi Betts’ July post, along with a couple of others about her airborne experiences with Goodfolk & O’Tymes Biplane Rides, finally prompted me to act on those thoughts.

I spoke with owner/pilot Dewey Davenport by phone and made tentative plans for a flight on August 9. Clouds and the possibility of rain led us to postpone the outing, and when my friend John and I prepared to climb aboard on Tuesday, there was no doubt in our minds that the postponement was a good thing. The only clouds in the sky were the soft fluffy welcoming sort.

As probably everyone reading this knows, in the early days of flight, passengers sat in front of the pilot and this plane is definitely from those early days. The four-passenger (plus pilot) D-25 New Standard was built in 1930, less than twenty-seven years after Wilbur and Orville first left the ground in an aircraft with a passenger capacity of zero. During the in hangar preliminaries, Dewey gave us a rundown of the D-25 in general and of this one in particular. Although it spent some of its middle years as a cropduster, it had been built specifically for barnstorming which is precisely the role it has returned to. A photo of this very plane appeared in National Geographic showing its use along the Snake River in one of the very first air rescue operations — in 1935!.

As we climbed into the sky, I, feeling we would likely need it later, kept an eye on our left landing gear. I assume John was similarly watching over the right side gear although I did not verify that. Conversation with protective earmuffs in place is challenging. I have flown in small airplanes in the past but never with the delightful in-your-face wind and noise of an open cockpit. I suppose it might become noticeably less delightful on a multi-hour flight to the coast although I’m not entirely sure of that. Experiencing flight in exactly the same manner that it was experienced close to a couple of decades before I was born was pretty darned cool and not a little exhilarating. Even though the overhead wing meant we passengers were traveling comfortably in the shade, the bright sun did enable me to take a long-distance selfie.

The view that an open aircraft provides is clearly unbeatable. In addition, Dewey made sure we experienced some of the unique non-visual sensations available as well. There was nothing remotely dangerous, of course, but we were treated to some climbs and dips that delivered that hint of weightlessness found on really good roller coasters. And there were some fairly hard banks. First to the right, so I could look straight at the ground right past John. Then to the left, so I could look straight at the ground right past nothing. That third picture might look like we are parked on the ground but nope. Dewey was just giving us a feel for what crop-dusting might have been like.

After we actually had landed, I exited ahead of John and turned around just as Dewey answered his question about where the nearest cornfield was.

 

Another flight was scheduled shortly after ours, and we stuck around to watch it take off. It was a very short taxi back to the runway then a revving of the radial engine started the airplane speeding — in a leisurely manner — over the grass to break free — also in a leisurely manner — from Earth’s surface. Dewey is almost always successful in his goal of making sure every customer has a great experience. He definitely works at it. The only time someone has been unhappy was when a flight had to be canceled due to darkness. Not only do people leave feeling happy, a goodly number no doubt leave feeling envious of Dewey’s “office”. John and I sure did.

I don’t have a “favorite blogs” list, but if I did Make the Journey Fun would almost certainly be on it. Brandi Betts visits some of the same sorts of places I visit and writes about some of the same sorts of things I write about. She does it more frequently (often daily), also writes about some things I do not (e.g., her cat), and has the occasional deep thought post more often than I do (which is pretty much never). But even if she had not turned me onto a wonderful keeper of bi-planes or reminded me of a delightful rock garden I’d still applaud her blog simply because of the name and the tagline. And that’s some pretty deep thought for me, eh? 

Music Hall Inside and Out

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I recall that at some point during the COVID-19 “shutdown”, outside tours of Cincinnati’s Music Hall became available and I had every intention of joining one. I do not recall why I didn’t. I finally made it on Saturday but by then, inside tours were also available so I did one of those on Friday. I’m no stranger to the 144-year-old building and even posted some 100% layman-type commentary on the place before and after its recent renovation: A Pre-Refurb Peek at Music Hall and A Post-Refurb Peek at Music Hall. But what little I did know about the building came purely from attending events there so I learned plenty from both tours.

Much of Friday’s tour was through public spaces I was fairly familiar with but which I’d never seen without a crowd of concertgoers. The statue of Reuben R. Springer is in the main lobby. Springer donated the majority of the money to construct the Samuel Hannaford designed building that replaced a tin-roofed wooden structure on the site. During the 2016-17 renovation, the solid wood doors across the front of the building were replaced by glass doors that really brightened up the lobby. Two of the original doors now stand behind each of the two bars in the corners of the lobby.

The main performance space is named Springer Auditorium and I’ve been inside it quite a few times. That includes once since the big renovation so I was aware of improvements like the wider seats and overhead acoustic panels. I was not, as a certain cinematic scientist might say, shivering with anticipation when we entered but maybe I should have been. I knew that the 1,500-pound Czechoslovakian chandelier was lowered and cleaned on a regular basis and was even vaguely aware that it happened every two years but I had no idea that one of those cleanings was currently in progress. Seeing all that crystal at eye level with the ceiling images unblocked was probably the day’s personal highlight for me.

We did get into some non-public spaces I’d never seen before. One of these was the huge backstage area with a glimpse of the main stage through a narrow opening. Another was the north hall which was originally built for industrial exhibitions but which became an athletic venue at some point. It was here that Ezzard Charles won many of his fights on the way to becoming World Heavyweight Champion and where the Cincinnati Bearcats played basketball in the 1940s. Cincinnati Gardens effectively took over the job of hosting Cincinnati’s athletic events when it opened in 1949. This is where I took the picture of the handpainted Music Hall that opens this article.

Friday’s last stop was the upper floor of the south hall. The south hall had been built as a place for agricultural exhibits. With its glass roof, it functioned as the city’s horticultural showplace until Krohn  Conservatory opened in 1933. Since then, it has served as a nightclub and dance hall in various forms and today is often rented out for private functions. I have been here a few times but only when it was jam-packed with people.

There were, of course, no non-public spaces on Saturday’s outside tour and I don’t believe I actually saw anything that I had not seen before. I did, however, learn quite a bit and now see some things differently. I know I’ve heard the architectural style described and may have even heard some form of the name our guide used; High Victorian Gothic Revival. But I don’t recall ever hearing the idiom he shared: “stripes and spikes”. He attributed this to an architecture critic of the day and it certainly seems to fit.

The south hall is marked with leaves and flowers to match its agricultural purpose while the north hall’s industrial connection is indicated by gears and mallets. Musical lyres adorn the central building.

The main building displays its year of completion if you can sort the digits into the right sequence. The two side buildings were completed during the following year. The fronts of all three were constructed with glazed bricks brought from Philadelphia and Zanesville. Some of these were then black coated on site. The rear portion of the buildings used less expensive local bricks and some additional money may have been saved by not paying someone to shuffle the build date.

Music Hall is close to downtown Cincinnati and I used the tours as an excuse to eat at a couple of favorites I don’t get to all that often. Friday’s tour was in the afternoon and I stopped by Camp Washington Chili on the way home but took no pictures. Saturday’s tour was in the morning and I headed to the Anchor Grill for breakfast. I did not intend to take pictures there either, but a banner in the parking lot changed my mind. Anchor Grill survived the worst of the pandemic on carryout so I checked before I went, and was happy to see they were now allowing dining-in. Apparently, they’ve been doing it since May, and that’s when the actual 75th anniversary was, too. I really should have been paying attention.

In my experience, the Band Box isn’t played much but almost as soon as I got my order in today, the curtain opened and the music began. It was still going when I left with the animated dance orchestra performing a non-stop medley of brokenhearted country love songs. I thought that was really special. And eating in restaurants older than me two days in a row is pretty special too.

The Berlin Masterpieces in Cincinnati

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This post’s title is a take-off of the title of an exhibit at the Cincinnati Art Museum the full and accurate title of which is Paintings, Politics and the Monuments Men: The Berlin Masterpieces in America. At the heart of the exhibit is the story of a wildly popular, though somewhat controversial,1948 tour of paintings with its own title: Masterpieces from the Berlin Museums. The tour did not reach Cincinnati although two of the fourteen cities it did reach, Cleveland and Toledo, were in Ohio and there is a major Cincinnati connection.

The picture of General Eisenhour looking over some of the paintings that the Nazis had hidden away is at the entrance to the exhibit. On the other side of the wall it is mounted on, there is a timeline of the Nazis’ rise and fall that ends with the Masterpieces from the Berlin Museums tour. Two items from late 1943 are “Allies invade Italy”, in September, and “Monuments, Fine Art, and Archives section (Monuments Men) of the U.S. Army is established”, in December. The Monuments Men (the subject and title of a 2014 movie) set out to locate and protect artworks at risk of being destroyed by the Nazis.

Thousands of items were located, some in a large salt mine, and brought together at Wiesbaden, Germany. This is where the Cincinnati connection comes in. The director of the Wiesbaden Central Collecting Point was Cincinnatian Walter I. Farmer. By itself, his work in documenting pieces of art and preparing them for return to their owners would have been noteworthy but there was something more.

When he became aware of plans to ship a large number of paintings to the U.S. for safekeeping, Farmer organized thirty-two Monuments Men to produce the Wiesbaden Manifesto which protested what Farmer feared was “spoils of war” type treatment of the European treasures. Smithsonian Magazine calls this “the only act of protest by Army officers against their orders during the entirety of the Second World War”. Although it was eventually published, the manifesto was initially suppressed by Farmer’s superiors. The paintings were shipped to the National Gallery in Washington, DC, and placed in storage. As plans formed to return the paintings to Germany, it was decided to put them on display before their departure. An exhibit at the National Gallery was so popular that the U.S. Congress took notice and actually legislated the tour of thirteen additional museums. All 202 paintings were returned to Germany at the conclusion of the tour. 

Photos of “The Berlin 202” are displayed on a wall near the center of the exhibition. Four of the actual paintings, on loan from the State Museums of Berlin, are on display. The exhibit is fleshed out with other paintings in CAM’s possession by some of the artists contained in the 202. Paintings, Politics and the Monuments Men: The Berlin Masterpieces in America runs through October 3, 2021.

Third Time Was Charming

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I finally got myself back to the garden. On Friday, I made my third visit to the Hartman Rock Garden in Springfield, OH. It took two nudges. One came from that source-of-many-things, Jim Grey’s blog. Jim makes a weekly “Recommended Reading” post that I always scan but confess to not clicking as many links in it as I used to. That’s no reflection on the quality of Jim’s recommendation but a combination of his (and his readers’) increased interest in film cameras and my decreased unallocated reading time. I clicked through on one of his July 24th recommendations and got hooked on a blog that I fully expect to quickly lead to at least one more post here along with a fuller story. I subscribed to the RSS feed which instantly brought me several recent articles, including one about a visit to the Hartman Rock Garden. That article is here. Thanks, Jim and Brandi.

The second nudge came from an issue of Echoes, the Ohio History Connection magazine, which I had received but not yet read. Inside, a six-page article titled “Channeling a Creative Spirit” told of Ben Hartman’s creative response to finding himself jobless in the 1930s during the Great Depression. I don’t credit that pair of nudges with anything magical or supernatural but I do credit them with making me think of Springfield when an idle Friday and an open blog slot came along. 

The garden started with the cement fish pond in the middle of the first photo at right. Ben was an accomplished molder at the Springfield Machine Tool Company when the depression hit. He was laid off in 1932 at age 48 and built the pond to fill his suddenly empty days. He moved on from the pond to figures and structures made of stones and other found items. Once he started building, he never stopped. His creations came in all sizes. These pictures are of some of the largest. At fourteen feet, the cathedral at the back corner is the garden’s tallest structure. A model of Da Vinci’s “The Last Supper” fills one of its many niches. The castle beside it is only a couple of feet shorter. It is believed to be based on a picture on a postcard that his wife, Mary, received.

Ben returned to the foundry in 1939 but died of silicosis just five years later. Mary maintained the garden until her death in 1997. What followed was about ten years of neglect. The deterioration was nearing its peak when I made my first visit in 2005. The picture at left is from that visit. The deterioration ended just a few years later when preservation-minded Kohler Foundation purchased the property in 2008. Following restoration, ownership of the garden was transferred to Friends of the Hartman Rock Garden, and a grand reopening was celebrated in June of 2010.

Two of the garden’s most iconic structures are the Tree of Life and the Hart(heart)MAN logo.

Today the Tree of Life was somewhat obscured — quite beautifully — by tall canna lilies. Here it is on my second visit in 2011. The cactus-like structure promotes the three things that Ben thought important in life. One arm holds a school and the other a church. In the center, the shield and eagle represent country. Ben estimated that this structure contains approximately 20,000 stones.

This is probably the most underappreciated structure in the whole garden. That’s because it looks exactly like an ordinary wooden picket fence but it isn’t. The entire fence — all 410 pickets — is concrete and Ben said it was one of the most difficult of the garden’s structures to build.

The structures in the garden look every bit as good as they did immediately following Kohler’s restoration and the landscaping looks even better. Those “friends” are doing a wonderful job. In addition to maintaining and enhancing the garden, they have produced an excellent “Guide Book and Map” that is available near the entrance. There is also a “Kids Tour” booklet available on site plus it and both pre- and post-tour worksheets can be downloaded. Admission is free but there is a donation box and this is certainly a place that deserves your support if you are able.

You may have noticed that the Hartman Rock Garden was not the primary reason I was in Springfield in either 2005 or 2011. Since I included some then-and-now garden pictures, I’m including a then-and-now of my reason for the 2011 trip. The 2005 trip was to see a temporary exhibit so there is no then-and-now. The 2011 outing was to check on the progress of the Ohio Madonna of the Trail monument’s move from its location at Snyder Park to downtown Springfield. In 2011 she was still at Snyder Park but was all packed and ready to go. I’ve since photographed her several times in her new home and today I did it again.