I can’t really claim to be a big supporter of cryptids of any sort but I can claim to support my local cryptids more than any of the others. I have taken a few pictures of Bigfoot signs and statues but I’ve never gone out of my way to do it, and I’ve never for a moment thought of going to Scotland solely to look for that critter reported to live in Loch Ness. I have, however, visited Point Pleasant, West Virginia, a couple of times primarily to admire the Mothman statue, and when I heard about the first-ever Frogman Festival, I figured attending it would just be proper. You can’t get much more local than a cryptid sighting a mile and a half from where I once lived and less than three miles from where I live now.
Some background, I suspect, might be in order. I’ll start with a definition. I now know what a cryptid is but I didn’t a few years ago and the word is not one I use daily. From Wikipedia: “Cryptids are animals that cryptozoologists believe may exist somewhere in the wild, but are not recognized by science. Cryptozoology is a pseudoscience, which primarily looks at anecdotal stories, and other claims rejected by the scientific community.” Mothman, which has been sighted about 120 miles from my home, is a cryptid and I believe the pictured inflatable is a representation. Here is a picture of a more solid, but not necessarily more accurate, rendition that’s in his hometown.
The Loveland Frog or Frogman is a cryptid that some cryptozoologists believe lives, or at least lived, in or near the Little Miami River around Loveland, Ohio. There are numerous descriptions floating around and even some reports of more recent sightings but essentially all descriptions mention sightings in 1955 and 1972. The creature is sometimes described as having webbed hands and sometimes as having human-like hands. Sometimes it’s very frog-like and sometimes it is basically a human with the face of a frog. Sometimes it’s about three feet tall but sometimes it’s closer to six feet. There are many other variations too. Legends and cryptids are often like that.


Vendors were a major part of the festival. It was announced at the start of the presentations that there were fifty-two vendors present representing twelve states. They filled the majority of the space offering clothing, books, games, a variety of craft items, and some really serious masks. Some very impressive works of art could also be found.


Here is an aspect of the festival that was a complete surprise to me. A company named MetaZoo was identified as the festival’s official sponsor. The name meant nothing to me but I soon learned that it is a gaming company and that a big tournament was part of the festival. I said that vendors had the majority of space but that’s because vendors were set up in the hallways. Space inside the main room was about evenly split between vendors and gamers. I don’t know much about the game itself but it looks like wizard hats, swimming goggles, and other paraphernalia could be important. I did learn from one of the people supervising the tournament that the play was one-on-one with winners advancing. The final rounds will be held at the tables with overhead cameras sending the action to the large screens. At the moment, all tables were being used so that random preliminary games were taking place at those tables.


I took in some but not all of the festival’s eight hours of presentations. The first picture is of one of the event’s organizers, Jeff Craig, introducing the first speaker. Dee Elliott talked about the effect of “hauntings” on three small West Virginia towns. Ashley Hilt’s presentation was entitled “Mothman” but it ended up touching on other sightings as well. I realize it looks like Mickey Mouse ears on the pair of audience members but they are actually frog eyes. Quite a few attendees were wearing frog eyes or something similar.

James Willis’ “Frogman of Loveland, Ohio” presentation was the main thing I wanted to see and I was certainly not alone. This was a standing-room-only presentation that was worth the price of addition. Willis dug into original police and newspaper reports to construct a rather thorough history of the legend. It’s the first time I’ve heard a version of this saga that makes sense.
The City of Loveland seems to have embraced its local cryptid. The picture at left was taken during the recent Hearts Afire weekend which I reported on here. That’s the city mascot greeting a young visitor on the bike trail.
I suppose it’s too early to know if this will become an annual event or was a one-time thing. It was clearly well-attended which I assume means it was a success. I had fun and learned more than I expected and will be on the lookout for a big festival or a big frog.
Amy E. Brownlee is a lifelong Cincinnatian. She naturally learned a lot about the city growing up here then used that knowledge and added much more during her ten years at Cincinnati Magazine. An awful lot of the treasures she writes about in Lost Treasures of Cincinnati were lost before she arrived but a rather frightening number have disappeared during her lifetime. Of course, an even larger number have disappeared during mine. Neither of us is responsible for that. I swear it’s coincidence pure and simple.
The book opens with “Food and Drink” in Section 1 then covers “Entertainment” and “Retail” in the next two sections. The smallest section, “Media”, is followed by the largest, “Community”. Definitions for those section titles are not particularly rigid and the size of the “Community” section probably indicates that it is the least rigid of all. It is where things like churches and breweries, of which Cincinnati had more than a few, appear.
Most, but not quite all, of the breweries mentioned in the book were gone before I got here. Likewise with restaurants and attractions which together comprise the biggest part of things that have disappeared during my lifetime. I caught one show, Hair, at the Shubert (“Entertainment”) before it was torn down. I also saw one movie at the Albee (“Entertainment”) but I don’t remember what it was. I had one meal each at The Gourmet Room and the Maisonette (“Food and Drink”) before they closed. There are quite a few places in this book where I ate one or more meals or watched one or more movies, plays, games, or concerts. Encountering each of them on these pages prompted memories that went way beyond the single paragraph of text. Reading about places that were already gone when I came to Cincinnati didn’t prompt any memories, of course, but it did make me appreciate just how many treasures have been lost.
I really enjoyed reading Lost Treasures of Cincinnati cover-to-cover front-to-back but as I did, two other ways of reading the book came to mind. With its fairly short standalone essays, it seems like a natural fit for that popular personal reading room with the porcelain furniture. Its use as a reference book also seems rather natural. I don’t mean an every-last-detail reference book to use in conducting deep-dive research but a great place to answer questions like “What was the name of that boat-shaped restaurant?” or “What happened to our NBA team?”. The full index will help the book play that role.
Greg Hand has been a man of letters — or at least a man of words — his entire adult life. He began as a newspaper reporter, moved up to editor, left to head up a university PR department, co-authored three books about the university while he was there, then retired. I was not even slightly aware of any of this as it was happening. I only became aware of Hand’s existence when I stumbled upon the blog he started post-retirement. His knowledge of local history and ability to dig up information to augment that knowledge was immediately apparent and I’ve been an ardent reader of that blog ever since that happy discovery. The blog’s name is Cincinnati Curiosities and it can be found
In fact, later in the book, Hand offers another very different capsulated view of the city. On December 12, 1890, he tells us, “The Palace Hotel had elephant steak on the menu because an elephant was executed by firing squad that morning at the Cincinnati Zoo. Hundreds of people watched. That pretty much summarizes Cincinnati in 1890.”
“The Sensational and the Senseless” is the fourth of ten chapters. Other chapters tell of monsters in the Ohio River (“The Old Weird Cincinnati”), Fanny Trollope’s visit during the “Porkoplis” period (“Tales From the Old City”), the possibility that striptease was invented in Cincinnati (“Freaks, Flesh, and Footlights”), and a large variety of other topics. The striptease claim is based on Millie De Leon’s orchestrated removal of several garters in 1901, and Hand cites the claim in suggesting that a Striptease Hall of Fame might be an “appropriate addition to our Over-the-Rhine neighborhood”.
Hand’s usually light-hearted reports are often accompanied by contemporary illustrations. At left is a Pears Soap advertisement based on Lillie Langtry’s famous bath in Apollinaris water at Cincinnati’s Grand Hotel in 1883. It’s in the chapter titled “Nudity, Naughtness, and Negotiable Affection”, and if that doesn’t get you interested in the book I don’t know what will.




























































































