Tag Archives: Ohio

Honda Heritage Center

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I’m guessing that many of you have seen plenty of attraction lists filled with places that you’ve already seen, are no longer open, are too far away, are by appointment only, or are so distorted by AI as to be laughable. I know I have. But I recently came across a list of museums in Ohio with several entries I thought useful. Every place on the list is currently operating, and I detected not a whiff of AI. I’d already visited several, and a few were too far away to fit my immediate plans, but that’s my problem. One requires an appointment, and my reluctance to do that is a personal problem, too. The list came from Ever After in the Woods. This is my first time hearing of them, so I’m not ready to give a wholehearted recommendation, but I like what I’ve seen so far.

As I’m sure you’ve already guessed, my first selection from the list was the Honda Heritage Center in Marysville, OH. It’s roughly two hours away, open at reasonable hours Monday through Friday, and free. I drove up Friday, registered for my stick on pass, and spent just about an hour roaming through the exhibits.

The first Honda plant in Marysville, actually the first in the U.S., was for motorcycles. It opened in 1979 with the intention of building the big Gold Wings. However, that was considered a little too complex for a brand new operation in a brand new country, so production started with the CR250M shown on the right side of the photo. Before too long, the facility was turning out Gold Wings and it turned out a whole lot of them before closing in 2005.

Although I don’t believe any of these were ever made in Marysville, these are the machines that firmly established Honda in the U.S. The Civic was the first Honda automobile to achieve any sort of success here. Next to it are 50cc and 90cc motorbikes. The only vehicle I’ve ever owned with a Honda nameplate fit between these two, at 65cc. The 50cc Honda is the most popular motorized vehicle in the world with more than 85 million sold. I think everybody’s view of two-wheeled Hondas changed when the 4-cylinder CB750 came out. I never owned one, but did ride one when a friend and I swapped bikes for a day. Nice bike.

I did have one of these. I just leased it, and it’s an Acura rather than a Honda so there are two technicalities allowing my only-owned-one-Honda claim. Acura was the first upscale brand from a Japanese auto maker and the 1986 Legend was one of their first offerings. I loved the car, but didn’t care for the leasing experience.

Honda has definitely done some serious racing on both four wheels and two.

Marysville is only about thirty crow-miles from The Ohio State University campus, so it’s only natural that some long term collaboration would take place between the two. That a Buckeye wrapped pickup truck would result from that partnership was probably inevitable.

Honda continues to develop other forms of transportation. Here are vehicles with two, one, and zero (Yeah, I know it’s gotta land sometime.) wheels. The two wheeled Motocompacto looks like something Inspector Gadget might use to cover the last mile to a crime scene. The UNI-CUB is controlled by body position. I guess it’s kind of like a Segway with one less wheel.

And there are even devices like the Advanced Step in Innovative Mobility that transport themselves. Nearby is an image of ASIMO on a screen (That’s me in the corner.) with a spot marked on the floor where guys like me can stand and make awkward gestures and get undeserved compliments.

No one will be surprised to hear that I paused in the Heritage Center lobby to check email and search for nearby breweries. You may be surprised to see that once I reached a brewery, I ordered a flight. It’s something I don’t normally do because I think a full pint of a single beer is better. But everything I read about Camp Brewing made a point of mentioning the flights in small Igloo coolers so I decided to go with the flow. The original location really is at a camp near Indian Lake. I went to the second location in Marysville where Markley poured and delivered my flight with a smile.

ADDENDUM 23-Aug-2026: There’s a reason Camp Brewing’s flight holders look familiar. One of my long time travel companions could actually be the first piece of gear in my brewery. If I took the stickers off, and if I had a brewery. Walmart now sells what appears to be the modern equivalent of this cooler for $27.99.

Odyssey Week

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I’ve heard plenty about the latest moving picture version of Homer’s Odyssey since its July 17 release. I probably heard plenty about it before its release but wasn’t paying attention. Information was certainly out there. I’ve learned that 95% of the tickets for pre-release screenings of the movie in select theaters were sold within an hour—one year in advance! The movie made it onto my personal wish list last week when some members of my trivia team said they had seen it and were impressed. They echoed what I’d already heard: You want to see this in the theater no matter how big a screen you have in your living room.

Not to worry. I am not going to attempt to review this movie. There are lots of professionals who have already done that, and many more who will do so far into the future. Although I can’t avoid talking about the movie entirely, I intend just to describe my own experience. Clues in the opening photo suggesting I did not attend a theater showing in my local Ohio neighborhood may not be obvious. Clues in the picture at left are harder to miss.

My trivia teammates had seen the movie at a nearby IMAX theater, and thought that was a pretty good choice. Those select theaters hosting the pre-release showings had all been IMAX theaters. But they weren’t just any IMAX. They were all showing 70mm film. I felt that the 70mm to digital switch at the Cincinnati Museum Center’s OMNIMAX Theater had been a big improvement, if for no other reason than it eliminated floaters caused by dust on the film. Now the experts, including the movie’s director, were telling me that this was the ultimate way to watch Odyssey.

Apparently what they really mean is 70mm film with 15 perforations per frame (a.k.a. 15/70mm IMAX). That produces a 1.43:1 aspect ratio, which gives you a really tall picture. 41 theaters worldwide support this format. There are 25 in the United States; None in Ohio. The closest to me is at the Indiana State Museum in Indianapolis.

News articles that discuss the different formats, particularly those that mention the near-instant sellout of pre-release viewings, usually also note difficulty in getting tickets to 70mm showings. Indeed, if you go to the IMAX website and select the Indiana State Museum Theater, it will show as sold out beyond next week. But for some reason, clicking the IMAX link on the museum’s website might reveal some available seats. At least it did on Monday, when it showed a few front-row seats open for most of the week’s showings, despite appearing to access the same page as the IMAX site. Not long ago I accidentally ended up in the front row of a theater where the reclining seats made it tolerable. I hoped for something similar here and purchased the third-to-last seat for Tuesday’s 11:00 showing.

My seat is just beyond the left edge of the picture I snapped when I entered the theater. Not as close as I feared but mighty close. The second picture shows the view from my seat. The projected images in both pictures are just a fraction of the real thing. When the movie starts, it fills that entire wall. Top to bottom; side to side. It was definitely closer than I—and obviously every other ticket purchaser—would prefer, but it was still quite acceptable. The big action that filled the big screen was matched by the big sound that filled the theater. I was more challenged by the seat-shaking rumbling that accompanied most action scenes than by the giant men and beasts projected in front of me. The sudden quiet after a storm or slaughter was always welcome.

After seeing the newest and probably loudest of the many movie adaptations of the Odyssey, I checked out the oldest and almost certainly quietest. L’Odissea is a 1911 Italian silent film. The music used in the YouTube version linked in the image at right has been identified by SoundHound as Edward Elgar’s Symphony No. 1. Brightly colored talking, clanking, and booming movies are nice and all, but some of these 115-year-old special effects are, in my opinion, pretty darned cool and are certainly impressive for a time when movie cameras were cranked by hand. Neither the oldest nor the newest nor any of those in between are completely true to the original poem. Every one of them leaves out something, although it seems that no one wants to leave out the Cyclops scene.

Everybody knows that it took Odysseus ten years to reach home after the war ended. Not everyone realizes that the majority of that time was a very unstressful seven years with Calypso. Still, three years of actual travel time is certainly considerable. To be fair, that was approximately 3,200 years ago. Things have changed. This trip was made just the other day, in a modern vehicle, on a land route that was not available to Odysseus and his companions, and from which sirens, cyclopes, and most other monsters have been cleared, in about half an hour.

Will the Buc-ee Stop Here?

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So, I was relaxing by the bike trail in Loveland, OH, enjoying some fine weather, sipping a beer, and munching on pot stickers when I received a text message, and the next thing I knew, I was sitting in a rush-hour traffic jam on the expressway. The text was from a road-tripping friend in Indiana, and said little more than “[I] decided to make my way to Beavercreek for some snacks.” I immediately knew exactly what he was talking about.

That friend was Pat Bremer (half of the Road Trip Memories team), whose Facebook feed, like mine, had recently been filled with posts about a little store in a suburb of Dayton, OH. I knew enough of the story to understand Pat’s reference, but there was a lot I didn’t know. I’ll start with what I knew before my phone pinged in that trailside bar.

I knew that the travel center Goliath, Buc-ee’s, had sued Davidish Beaver’s Mini Mart for copyright infringement. Note that the Mini Mart doesn’t have a website or even a Facebook page. Nor does it have any gas pumps. Buc-ee’s locations tend to have a hundred or more. Many of the Facebook posts that made me (and presumably Pat) aware of this resembled this one, which identifies several local businesses that have temporarily placed a beaver in their logos in support of their longtime neighbor. The town that is home to the business being sued already had a beaver in its name. Beavercreek, OH, was incorporated as a city in 1980.

In addition to all those companies posting logos featuring beavers, customers have been showing up in droves. Snacks are being purchased, and donations are being made to a legal defense fund. There is a GoFundMe. Reportedly, lines at least as long as the one in the picture are now nearly constant.

When I met Pat in the store parking lot, I knew of but had not seen John Oliver’s July 26 segment on Buc-ee’s, and didn’t know much about their growing reputation for aggressive trademark activity. In particular, I knew nothing about their attack on Mickey’s. Pat clued me in. Mickey’s is a regional chain of convenience stores with headquarters in Milan, OH. Their stores in northeast northcentral Ohio could legitimately be considered Buc-ee’s competitors, but, as Mickey’s attorneys have astutely observed, “a moose is not a beaver.” I personally have to question whether customers who confuse one for the other are worth pursuing. The same thing could be said of folks who cannot distinguish the rodent with the red hat from the bare-headed fellow on the Mini Mart sign.

I have never been a Buc-ee’s customer candidate. This photo of the recently opened location, about 10 miles north of Beaver’s Mini Mart, is as close as I have knowingly been to one. Although they are a rapidly vanishing breed, my favorite gas stations are still those where the actual owner steps out of a tiny office or pauses an oil change to fill your tank. The further a station moves from that image, the more my fondness fades. Buc-ee’s seems to be about as far from that image as possible. The pictured location in Huber Heights is the first in Ohio. Another is planned for Mansfield. It’s pretty obvious that these are the triggers for the attacks on Beaver’s and Mickey’s.

Is the answer to the half-witty question in my title yes or no? Regarding Buc-ee’s vs. Beaver’s Mini Mart, it seems at least possible that the answer is yes. In a statement taped to their door, the little market says it will “fight this lawsuit all the way”. In addition to the surge of flat-tailed and big-toothed logos, donations are being made to support the fight. Ohio’s governor and at least one state senator have made statements condemning the lawsuits. Governor DeWine calls them “ridiculous”. Beavercreek’s city council is about to vote on a resolution “affirming the beaver as a historic symbol of the community”. All that negative publicity can’t be good, and it’s hard for me to see how even the complete disappearance of Beaver’s Mini Mart would benefit the big Texas corporation. It seems reasonable to believe that the big guy just might end the ugly-looking assault on this little guy.

As for the less focused version of that question, the answer is almost certainly no. Buc-ee’s is not at all likely to stop its expansion into Ohio. There is a movement and a petition opposing the planned Mansfield store, but land has been purchased beside I-71, and the Mansfield city council has unanimously approved the plan. The second quarter of 2028 has been floated as a possible opening date. It’s true that the signers of that petition and the people in that line at Beaver’s Mini Mart may never shop at Buc-ee’s, but they are not the company’s target customers. While I don’t doubt that there are Buc-ee’s regulars who live just down the street from one of their stores, I do doubt that they are the chain’s primary patrons. Nor do I believe the chain is depending on folks like me who travel, but do so largely on two-lanes while keeping an eye out for mom-and-pop businesses. No, they are looking for people driving on interstates who might never stop at a particular Buc-ee’s twice but might stop at one down the road and the one after that.  

This is a photo I took as I was pulling out of Beaver’s Mini Mart’s parking lot. At the time, my guess was that Buc-ee’s did not sell bait. It turns out they do, but only at some locations, and Huber Heights is not one of them. There is a pretty good overview of the situation in this USA Today article. I considered including links to other bits of news, but items are appearing so frequently that you’re better off searching for the latest yourself. I will mention two things that have appeared since my Tuesday visit. One is that it appears the mini mart’s owner Vikramjit Singh Boparai owns several businesses in Ohio. The other is that Buc-ee’s CEO Arch Aplin called the mayor of Huber Heights (Not Beavercreek!) to tell him that the lawsuit was filed because Boparai filed for a national copyright and failed to respond to their communications. Boparai denies that a national filing exists. This development is summarized in a Cincinnati Enquirer article.

Big Boy Seen — Briefly

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On Tuesday, as part of its tour of the eastern United States, Union Pacific’s Big Boy No. 4014 was on display in Fostoria, OH. I drove up to see it, but the picture at right is as close as I got. The entrance to the train yard where the locomotive was parked is about 2.5 miles farther on. Note that cars are converging onto the road I’d just left from both the left and the right. As might be expected, other roads leading to the yard from other directions were just as packed.

The announced opening time had been 9:00, and it was now about 9:45. Even though I knew better, I told myself that maybe this was just the buildup of people who had been waiting there since well before 9:00, and that it might thin out later. I turned back into town and treated myself to a $6.99 breakfast special at The American Table. After a leisurely meal, I tried again. This time, I followed a route through downtown, and although I got no closer to Big Boy than I had earlier, I did get the day’s only glimpse of a train. When I turned around this time, I spoke with a policeman directing traffic, who gave me directions to bypass most of the Fostoria traffic and reach Findlay. I asked if he thought things would settle down before day’s end. “Oh, hell no,” was his answer.

Findlay was my destination because that’s where I had reserved a motel room. I was way too early to check in, but finally had some luck and found the Findlay Brewing Company open. I claimed a bar stool and very slowly nursed a nice Irish Red Ale. After checking in and spending a little time at the motel, I returned to the brewery for a salad and a stout.

I had booked the room partly to postpone the nearly three-hour drive home, but also because I hoped to catch the train in motion. Seeing it head west on Wednesday would have been a goal even if I had been successful on Tuesday, but now it was even more important. Honey Joe’s Cafe in Arcadia looked like a good place to start the day. It was, and I had another fine breakfast.

There was a crossing just east of town that I thought might be a good viewing spot, and the fact that several cars were already there when I arrived reinforced that idea. The picture shows just a fraction of the cars that were there when the train came through. We had a couple of hours to wait, but things moved rather quickly after the online tracker indicated that it had left Fostoria. The first local indication that it was near was the passing of several small planes that seemed to be tracking the train and probably filming it. Then smoke from the locomotive could be seen approaching from beyond the trees.

I really don’t know what its speed was, but Big Boy moved to and through the crossing at a pretty good clip.

More than twenty cars made up the train, which meant that the locomotive was well beyond the crossing when the last car rolled out from behind the trees. I was happy to get a look at the Pullman bringing up the rear. Built in 1927, it served Franklin Roosevelt as Governor of New York and then as the President.

Most of the crowd was gone rather quickly. I know that some of those leading the exodus were off to catch the train again at one or more crossings farther west. I waited until all that scrambling was over, then drove into Findlay to take a look at Iron Triangle Park. The park was essentially unreachable yesterday, and my guess is that was probably true for this morning when Big Boy passed through. As I looked around, I heard someone announce that a train was coming, and I spotted its headlight through the group clustered at the fence. Three active rail lines border the park. I’ve read one report claiming that at least 60 trains pass this park every day, and another that claims an average of 100. I know of two that did it on Wednesday.

When I told a friend of my failure to see the parked Big Boy, I noted that the town of Struthers, OH, had around 20,000 people show up to see Big Boy on Sunday when they had expected 5,000. I’d seen a projection of 20,000 at Fostoria, and offered that maybe 100,000 had actually appeared. Turns out that wasn’t far off. It has been reported that 46,000 made their way into the rail yard, and an estimated 46,000 were turned away. Lots of people were disappointed, and I really sympathize with families who drove for hours then waited in line for several more without seeing what they came for. There has been some finger-pointing and attempts to place blame, and I do not doubt that there were things that could have been done better and instances where people could have behaved better. But the majority of what I’ve read indicates that most of the people involved were really doing the best they could. No one should be surprised that dealing with 90,000 people in 90-degree temperatures in a city with a population under 13,000 had a few bumps.

ADDENDUM 19-Jul-2026: Although I didn’t get to see Big Boy 4014 up close while it was on display in Fostoria, I have seen a sibling, Big Boy 4004, on permanent display in Cheyenne, WY.

Happy Birthday to U.S.

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Yesterday was the 250th anniversary of the adoption of the Declaration of Independence of the United States of America. Around 2010, the Cincinnati History Museum rediscovered a copy of the second printing of the Declaration and put it on display for the Fourth of July in 2015. Like this year, the Fourth of July fell on Saturday. Part of my blog post for Sunday, July 5, 2015, concerned the opening of the display on July 2. The 1776 document is again on display this year in an exhibit that opened on July 3. I took the opening picture from I-71 as I headed toward the museum for the opening of that exhibit.

Declarative Acts and Revolutionary Actors is paired with another temporary exhibit “Equal to Any in the City:” Ball & Thomas Photographs 1840s – 1870s. Both opened on the 3rd and are included with museum admission. Declarative Acts and Revolutionary Actors runs through August 23. “Equal to Any in the City:” Ball & Thomas Photographs 1840s – 1870s runs through October 14.

This year the museum’s copy of the Declaration of Independence is displayed in front of the 1st Pennsylvania Battalion flag. Josiah Harmar was a member of the 1st Pennsylvania Battalion and probably brought the flag with him to Ohio. His great-grandson donated the flag to the City of Cincinnati in 1926.

The Declaration of Independence was not signed on July 4, but was approved by representative from twelve colonies. Approximately 200 copies were printed that night in Philadelphia. Without instructions from their legislature, delegates from the thirteenth colony, New York, did not approve of the declaration on the fourth but did so on the ninth after which about 500 copies with the New York resolution were printed. The copy on display is one of four known survivors from the second printing. Twenty-six copies of the first printing are known to exist.

Additional informative displays and artifacts from Cincinnati’s earliest history, such as wood from the original Fort Washington, fill out the Declarative Acts and Revolutionary Actors exhibit.
 
 
James Presley Ball was a free Black man who, along with his brother-in-law Alexander Thomas, operated a very successful photography studio in Cincinnati from the late 1840s into the 1870s. The museum’s exhibit contains many of their original photos.

It’s perhaps not surprising that Ball was an active abolitionist. He frequently worked with the Underground Railroad, but his biggest contribution to the ant-slavery movement was probably a 600 yard long panorama he created in collaboration with other artists in 1855. It toured part of the country providing a visual depiction of the horrors of slavery. The panorama has been lost, but an accompanying pamphlet survives. A short video describes it in the exhibit.

The exhibit uses the Ball and Thomas story to share some details of early photography aside from the specifics of their activities. The film camera had just been invented and Photoshop was more than a century away but people were already busy improving on what the lens saw. Studio employees called retouchers might enhance black and white images with a little color or maybe even add something entirely new to the scene. Examples are turning a gray watchchain gold and placing a shiny gold ring on what was actually an empty finger.

It was still morning when I finished viewing the exhibits. It had already been uncomfortably hot when I arrived, and I knew the temperature was still rising. I opted to pause on a bench in the lobby for a bit before venturing out. What you see at left is the natural result of anyone spending more than a second or two in that wonderful half-dome with a camera in hand.

Because all of my previous 4th of July blog posts have included fireworks, I’m including this pair of worse than usual shots. In the past, I’ve photographed the shows at Kings Island, Loveland, and maybe a couple of other places. I can always hear, but not see, the Kings Island show, and that might be true of some other nearby events as well. However, I am surrounded by multiple neighbors who really like to celebrate on the 4th (and the 3rd, and the 5th, and more), so this year I just stepped outside my front door and grabbed a few snapshots with my phone. Then I stepped back inside and went to bed.

The 1955 Mountain View diner occupied by Sugar n’ Spice is a good place for breakfast when heading to the Museum Center. However, since it is in the downtown area, parking is a consideration, and for me, it often loses out to other places also within range of the museum with free parking. I’d already decided I was just going to deal with the parking, then learned that I didn’t have to. I had also more or less decided that I would have a very Cincinnati goetta-and-cheese omelet when I spotted something else on the menu. I believe this was my first-ever goetta Benedict. It is also very Cincinnati and also very good. Happy hollandaise.

Skirmish at Dogwood Pass

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I first heard of this faux town in southern Ohio a couple of weeks ago when someone reported on a visit there in an online travel group.  Dogwood Pass began as a man-cave-style retreat for Mike Montgomery and his buddies, but has grown to be a whole lot more. The place was used to raise funds for a seriously ill child in 2012, and the practice has been repeated annually, with an event benefiting a different child each time.

Ideas kept coming, and the place has become a year-round attraction, with something going on at least twice a month, and much more around Halloween and Christmas. When I learned that one of the big Civil War-themed events would take place on June 6 and 7, I thought it would be a good time to check it out. When it aligned with perfect weather, I knew it.

The three dozen or more buildings that make up the town sure look like authentic 19th-century structures, and there is even a boot hill for the truly permanent residents.

Storefronts and wooden crosses are definitely not the only thing to look at. Among the less static attractions are the Roy Rogers Memory Museum, the g-g-g-g-granddaughter of Little Turtle, Buildings, and a hard-working village smithy.

Two Civil War reenactments were scheduled, and as the time for the first one approached, Dogwood Pass founder and owner Mike Montgomery told spectators a little about his man-cave’s wild transformation and the upcoming visit by Morgan’s Raiders. Everyone should stay behind the safety rope, he explained, to avoid getting “run over, shot, or killed”. This was especially important today, he said, because “It’s too hot for anyone to dig a hole to put you in.”

The town folk remained calm and it was business as usual until word arrived that Morgan was on his way.

The town cannon was fired as the raiders reach the edge of town but it was just wasn’t enough. Confederate troops were soon in the town square.

In 1863, Morgan’s Raiders worked their way through many small towns in southern Indiana and Ohio looking for horses, food, or anything else the could use. On Saturday, reenactors did the same in Dogwood Pass, and for a time were in complete control of the town.

It was short lived, however. Before long, United States troops appeared and cleared the town of the intruders.

Of course, not all of them left. Then, after a moment to let folks take in the scene and consider what they had just witnessed, the command “resurrect” brought everyone dispatched during the melee back upright. The reenactors eventually joined in formation and all the participating units were introduced. I regret that I can’t recall and share their identities. Many had traveled quite some distance and every one of them added something to a very impressive operation.

An even bigger battle was planned for the afternoon but I left after peace was restored in the town. The event continues today, with what I believe are repeats of both reenactments. I’m sorry that this is being published too late for any but the nearest neighbors to use that information but encourage everyone to check out the Dogwood Schedule and plan a future visit. It’s quite impressive.

Loveland Museum Center

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Saturday was not the first time I’ve visited the Loveland Museum Center, but earlier visits happened long enough ago that this website did not exist. They were, in fact, long enough ago that I remember almost nothing about them. To be entirely honest, I don’t remember half as much as I should from Saturday’s visit. To illustrate, I met three extremely friendly and helpful staff members while I was there, but the only one whose name I remember is the lady who guided me through the exhibits and supplied tons of information: Nancy. The main museum building is known as the Bonaventure Hoise. It was built in 1862 by Dr. John S. Law. It was the home and office of Dr. Frank S. Lever into the 1950s. Apparently, Bonaventure was the name of an owner between the two doctors.

I don’t believe any of the building’s current content is original, but what is there is appropriate and interesting. A placard identifies the refrigerator as a General Electric “Monitor Top”, and says the name came from its resemblance to the gun turret of the Civil War ironclad, USS Monitor. I’d heard the name before, though not the explanation. I had my doubts, but it does make sense, and the internet seems to support it.

There is an impressive collection of guns and a display about a log cabin that I’ll have more on later. The large document on the left side of the third picture grants eleven hundred acres of land on the Little Miami River to Colonel Thomas Paxton. It is signed by President John Adams. This led to the founding of the village of Paxton, which eventually became Loveland.

During restoration, the name of paperhanger R.W. Prendergast was uncovered and preserved. It was placed there in 1872. It was apparently uncovered and again papered over in 1932 when S.G. Tufts added his name. Upstairs, a bit of wallpaper, thought to possibly be original, is similarly preserved.

That previously mentioned cabin is now on the museum grounds. It was built in 1797, covered over the years with numerous additions, then rediscovered in the 1980s when some remodeling was planned. A placard from that previously pictured display is here, and one from inside the cabin is here. Although they are not directly connected to the cabin, quite a few historic items are displayed inside it. The covered wagon bows against the wall caught my eye, and I snapped a picture, partially so I could mention that I once read that wagon bows were the first commercial product exported from Darke County, OH, my home.

Here is a different view of the cabin and the museum, along with a shot of the modern building containing museum offices and an event space. 

Salty Dog Museum

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I have known of the Salty Dog Museum for several years, but had it in my mind that it was open by appointment only. I think it may very well have started out that way. But I recently learned that it is pretty reliably open on Thursdays and Saturdays. On those days, the crew is very likely on site, busy restoring something, with the doors to the two museum buildings unlocked. There’s a decent chance of it being open at other times, and a slight possibility does exist that it won’t be open on a particular Thursday or Saturday. In other words, even though the museum has settled into a fairly consistent two days or more a week schedule, everything on the sign out front remains true.

Had I tried one more door beyond the two I found locked, I’d have been able to step into the museum building filled with cars. As I contemplated my next move, Dan stepped into the sunlight to get a better view of something in his hands. I approached and asked about the museum, and he invited me into the workshop. After casually noting that I was starting at what was the normal end of a museum tour, he told me about the 1917 Cincinnati Fire Department ladder wagon currently being restored along with the “tractor” that eventually replaced the horses that pulled it originally.

Then Dan introduced me to museum co-founder Mark Radtke, who gave me a tour of highlights before letting me loose to wander at will. I’ve seen Mark in a video or two with Ron Miller, the museum’s other founder and the founder of Ron’s Machine Shop. Ron died in 2023, and I really regret not getting here while he was still around. As you can see, Mark graciously agreed to a photo after leading me through the proper door into the auto section. Before we stepped out of the workshop, I got to watch Mark and some of the others dig through a foot-thick catalog, then do some back-of-the-envelope calculations involving IDs, ODs, and probably some other Ds, too, to determine exactly which fitting to order for some piece being restored. Seeing how much that group enjoyed what they were doing, then seeing Ron’s enthusiasm for the collection of vehicles and paraphernalia he and Ron have put together, sure put me in the right mood for looking it over.

We returned to the other building, where Mark went back to work, and I went off exploring. The museum started with cars, with the fire engines coming along later. Apparently, however, once they started coming along, they really came along. The number and quality of the firefighting vehicles here is phenomenal.

Ahrens-Fox was a Cincinnati-based builder of fire engines. That no doubt accounts for many of their vehicles being displayed in the museum.

When there’s that much firefighting equipment around, there’s bound to be more than a few ladders. Many are displayed on engines and trailers, and there is also a wall filled with them. Those not lying flat against that wall could present something of a hazard, but Salty Dog does a good job of making them visible.

I noticed this rock waterer and asked about it when Mark and I were walking between the two display areas. It was their answer to the Genius of Water on Cincinnati’s Fountain Square, he explained. Then he demonstrated its remote control. I snapped this picture as I headed back to the car display building. Ain’t it wonderful what a group of engineers and mechanics can accomplish with just a few spare parts?

You may have spotted this car in the background of the earlier photo of Mark. Although it was not the start of building or collecting cars for either of them, this car might mark the beginning of the Miller-Radtke collaboration that led to the museum. In 2008, the pair went to Bonneville as spectators, but ended up as an impromptu crew. They also ended up hooked. They built this car and captured two Bonneville Salt Flats land speed records with it. There are some details on its Ault Park Concours placard.

There are several more race cars next to the Bonneville car, and a slightly different sort of race car sits a short distance away. It’s the 1915 Ford Model T that Ron Miller drove to victory in the 2001 Montana 500. The 1911 T in the third picture isn’t a race car, but it does look rather racy, and I’m rather fond of the after-market hood ornament.

Looking back from the other end of the building will give you an idea of just how many cars it contains, and it might give you an idea of just how much these guys like Fords. It’s not all Fords, though. Among the “off brands” on display are a 1908 Schacht, a 1902 Holsman, and a 1932 Chrysler. There are even a few motorcycles available for viewing.

Crosby, Stills, and Nash said it first:

Will you come see me Thursdays and Saturdays?
What have you got to lose?
          Suite: Judy Blue Eyes, 1969

History in Bloom at Spring Grove

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People I asked while there thought that Spring Grove Cemetery’s History in Bloom was about 15 years old. The earliest reference I’ve found online is from 2012, and it says, “It is one of our most popular events of the year!”, so 2012 wasn’t the first. Apparently, the event I attended for the first time on Sunday, April 19, was at least the sixteenth. My first impulse when something like that happens is to feel embarrassed because it took me so long to discover something so interesting. Of late, though, I’ve taken to being quite happy when it happens since it means there are still cool things to discover even for an old guy like me.

I do, however, regret missing out on previous events for one reason. In the past, I have enjoyed extended walks around Spring Grove Cemetery, and would certainly have enjoyed the guided walking tour available today. But long walks have become problematic for me over the last year or so, and I was happy to take advantage of the horse-drawn carriage rides, which, like the walking tours, were free.

It was nearing 1:00 when I arrived. This was probably near the busiest part of the day, and the line for carriage rides was rather long. My wait was a bit more than an hour, but the weather and surroundings were very pleasant. Neither I nor the others in line were much bothered by the wait. There was a group of five, including an extremely young baby, immediately in front of me. The first of the group had boarded a carriage when it became apparent they could not all be accommodated. When those on board turned to rejoin those on the ground, a couple already seated stepped off — with a smile — so mom and the others didn’t have to wait any longer.

We would get to visit with seven of the cemetery’s residents during the tour. All were important in the development of the city and region, but one was also extremely important in the development of the final home of all seven. Joseph Earnshaw assisted landscape designer Adolph Strauch considerably in creating the parklike layout of Spring Grove Cemetery.

Next up was Susan Pendleton Bowler, who, along with her husband, invited Adolph Strauch to design their gardens, which are now Mount Storm Park. John Robinson spoke to us from in front of the family mausoleum. The Robinson Circus, among the first to own its own railroad cars, wintered in Cincinnati for many years. Clara Dow was the only female in her class at pharmacy school, which she attended in order to take over her father’s drug store. Under her management, the store hired female pharmacists and added a soda fountain to create a place where women and children were welcome—and comfortable.

Thomas Hughes was a successful cobbler who willed his property to the city for the education of poor children. Hughes High School bears his name. Born into slavery, Henry Boyd became a skilled carpenter and was able to buy his freedom. His H. Boyd Company was a respected manufacturer of furniture. When Marianne Kauffman’s husband died, she stepped in to save and operate the John Kauffman Brewing Company. Because of her earlier success in real estate transactions, she was able to bring the company out of the heavy debt her husband had created.

This is Robert, our onboard narrator. He filled the spaces between stops with lots of information and an occasional joke. He also answered a fair number of questions, and it was clear he really knew his history. By tour’s end, we learned he had played several History in Bloom roles over the years. As I mentioned, the earliest History in Bloom references I found online were from 2012, and one of those contained a photo of Robert as Joseph Earnshaw.

There were three teams of horses pulling visitors around the cemetery. They all deserve to be recognized, and, although I did not get any of their names, I did get their pictures. The pictures near the beginning of the article are of the team that pulled me. Here are the other two teams as they approached the pickup point to load up and move on without me.

A Capitol Encampment

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I have already taken advantage of two Ohio Goes to the Movies events, and I doubt those will be the last. But Ohio is doing a lot more than showing movies to mark the semiquincentennial of the signing of the United States Declaration of Independence. One of the many events organized by America 250 – Ohio was something called American Revolution in the Ohio Country, which took place Wednesday on the grounds of the state capitol in Columbus. Ohio was not a charter member of the USA, but we did join up fairly early on. Plus Fort Laurens near Bolivar, OH, was built and occupied during the American Revolution, and the Battle of Picawey, near Springfield, OH, is considered part of that war. Wednesday’s encampment did not attempt to recreate any specific event, but to offer a glimpse at life in the 1770s.

It was a few minutes past the 10:00 start time when I reached the plaza on the west side of the Capitol. I’d parked a couple of blocks to the east, and this was what I saw when the gathering first came into view. I sensed at once that I was late. I heard but did not see cannons or muskets firing, and may have missed some sort of opening ceremony.

Shortly after I reached the open space beyond the tents, the men who, I assume, had been making the booms I heard closed ranks and marched away. I would get to hear and see these fellows and others do a lot more booming before the day was over, but for now, a shot of them passing by was all I got.

But I did get to see the day’s first performance from Heritage Fife and Drums in its entirety. They started at the far side of the plaza lawn, then marched up to the crowd, where their leader enthusiastically introduced each song.

More music followed. This music was recorded and played through speakers so these energetic folks could dance to it. The second picture is of a quadrille (4 couples, 8 people), which Americans in the next century turned into square dancing with cowboy boots and no French accent.

Having read that there would be “samples of food from the revolutionary time”, I anticipated things unfamiliar and bizarre, but the most bizarre thing about the offerings was that stuff that I thought quite modern was being served in the 18th century. When I mentioned my surprise, the lady tending to the “Mini Beef in Crust”, which I picked as one of my two samples, told me that “Swedish Ham Meatballs” had been served at Mount Vernon, and that “Shrimp & Grits”, my other sample, had been popular in the Carolinas back in the day.

Inside one of the tents, a fellow explained 18th-century maps and mapmaking. There were also displays of more common items of the period.

While I was listening to the fifers & drummers, watching the dancers, and sampling the samples, the soldiers had been relaxing and answering questions from the curious. Now they lined up and began marching back to the open lawn. It was about to get noisy.

After marching to the far side of the lawn, both the militia and the uniformed regulars fired several volleys. (Note that the day this is being posted, April 19, 2026, is the 251st anniversary of men dressed and armed much like those in the first photo confronting British troops at Lexington and Concord.) Then the regulars begin moving toward the crowd. Half the group marched several paces ahead of the others and fired. They would then reload while the other half advanced and fired. Then, after crossing much of the lawn in this fashion, they all lowered their bayonets and charged,

Following that bayonet charge, the reenactors marched back to the tents for a bit of a break, but eventually returned to roll out the big guns. Here‘s a better look at the thin white object tucked into the hat of the fellow standing in the center of the third photo. I spotted him smoking the pipe just moments after watching another reenactor semi-stealthily puffing on a cigarette. I approached and commented about how much better the pipe looked. Yes, he agreed, he tried to appear accurate, and, yes, it was clay, and yes, he had made it himself.

Of course, any smoke produced by hand-made clay pipes or machine-rolled cigarettes was nothing to that produced by the battery of 3-pound cannons. Perhaps this, too, is part of trying to appear accurate.

Those samples of delicacies from 250 years ago were not the first things I had to eat on Wednesday. In the not-too-distant past, from a source I can’t remember, I’d heard of a great-sounding breakfast spot in Columbus named Katalina’s. I may or may not have known that Katalina’s had appeared on Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. In any case, I had not seen the episode. If I had, I would have known that it was recorded at Katarina’s Too. I went to the original on Pennsylvania Ave. There is now a Katarina’s Tres also. I’ll try to keep an open mind, but I can’t imagine that either of the others is anywhere near as cool as the original.

Another thing I could have learned from the D, D and D episode was how to eat the signature and absolutely delicious Pancake Balls. I briefly considered pouring the real Maple syrup on the Nutella-filled balls like I would on a flat pancake, but decided that probably wouldn’t work. I proceeded to tear pieces from the balls with fingers and fork, and dip the impaled pieces into the syrup. I’ve now seen the video and know that holding a ball in your fingers, dipping it into the syrup, then taking a bite, is what the cool kids do. Next time, I’ll be cool, too. I was already cool enough to use my fingers to eat the best bacon I’ve ever met.