Yesterday was a beautiful day to canoe down the Mill Creek.

You might be asking yourself if there is ever a day that is warm enough, beautiful enough and worth- the-possible-health-risks enough to ever go within 10 feet of Cincinnati’s most notorious waterway. And you’d be right, or at least partially correct. But I am a reporter, I’m a little crazy and I must sacrifice myself for the readers of The Post and Report This! so that the truth can be known.

And the truth? It’s beautiful, it’s pretty clean and it’s a hidden gem among the mostly industrial wasteland that it meanders through.

We got in at the Mitchell Avenue exit of Interstate 75 and paddled - more than six miles - all the way down to the Mill Creek Pumping Station, next to Spinney Field in Lower Price Hill.

I saw lots of things yesterday I never thought I would see on the Mill Creek. For example, hundreds of carp spawning as far up as Northside. They were everywhere. A bird watcher in one canoe spotted 44 different species of birds, including Wood ducks, Mallard ducks, geese and several dozen goslings, herons, cardinals. We saw turtles, groundhogs, snakes swimming in the creek and lots of evidence of beavers who have chewed trees along the banks.

Sadly, there is a big pile of trash - so thick it could not be canoed through - near the mouth of the Mill Creek where it pours into the Ohio. Those photos are particularly amazing and disturbing. It also smelled awful from the dead animals floating in the water. The photos tell visually that part of the story, so check them out. But, keep in mind, that was a tiny sliver of an otherwise beautiful stream.

I’ll save some for my story, which I hope to have in the paper tomorrow. But, as the handshake photo formally demonstrates , I am now officially a member of the Mill Creek Yacht Club - t-shirt and all (that photo is the long-and-short of their official induction ceremony). Special thanks to Bruce Koehler, shaking my hand in the photo above, for inviting me on the trip.
NOTE: To see images from the trip, click on either photo to be taken to a set.

In my nearly three years living in downtown and Over-the-Rhine, there has not been one panhandler who has bothered me as much as this guy. Wednesday he sort of pushed me over the edge, so I went up to him, said “Hey!,” he looked at me and I took the photo above with my cameraphone. Watch out for him.

He’s very convincing. He’s got about three stories - by his own admission - which are all pretty good and surprisingly often yields several dollars from those he approaches. An acquaintance a few years ago gave him $10 because he felt so sorry for him.

Imagine my surprise when I saw him the next evening doing the same thing. We were duped; I could not believe how convincing he was.

My problem is that he is a con, lies about his situation relying on people’s sympathies and is breaking the law, plus hurting the other panhandlers who are actually obeying the law, like ‘em, love ‘em or not.

That was the situation yesterday. He was on Fountain Square and all around 5th & Vine streets, hustling from corner to corner, walking up to anyone and everyone. If anything, it’s impressive to see him work so quickly.

In the past I have seen him wearing a college ballcap and he tells this sad story about being a student at U.C. or Xavier, is on spring break, car is broke down, is new to town, needs a cab up to Clifton or out to Xavier, does not like to ride the bus for obvious reasons - it goes on and on. And because he’s clean cut, a fast talker, does not smell and probably because he is white, he gets a lot of money. Others sitting on the sidewalk, with a sign asking for help - as was the case yesterday with one person who I have sort of gotten to know, call her T - get upset and angry. And I think rightfully so.

Don’t get swindled by this guy. Tell him you know his game and don’t give him money. If you do want to give money - and I often do not, aside from buying a copy of Street Vibes, which is totally each person’s choice - give it to somebody obeying the law.

Downtown Cincinnati’s more-than-ample parking lots did a lot of damage to our downtown. Back when decisions were made to tear down large swaths of old buildings to make way for parking lots, city leaders could not see past their steering wheels. Looking on the bright side, I suppose, is the chance to get shots like this (along with a little camera trickery), a view of the evening sky near Eighth & Sycamore streets, with clouds rolling in.

So, last night marked the second meeting of the monthly Cincinnati Supper Club, this time at Blake Fox’s house. Kudos to Jackie Danicki for coming up with the idea and working to make it happen, and big kudos to Blake for hosting it at his great place up in Mount Auburn.

As you’ll see from the photos (see by clicking on the one above, and also see Jackie’s and Blake’s photos), we had a great evening. It started around 6 p.m. and it has typically gone until whenever, with the last folks (me, Jackie and Edward) hitting the road around 10:30 last night. The whole night was scattered, smothered and covered in great conversation, a great view and wonderful food. Oh, and what did we have to eat? Blake cooked up a unique beef Stroganoff, coupled that with a make-your-own tossed salad and fresh bread. It was all terrific.

Then - lucky us - Michelle Lightfoot, the owner of the best lunch place in the entire world (no joke) deli 720, 720 East Pete Rose Way (inside the office building across from the Purple People Bridge, (513) 381- 3720, Web site to come very, very soon), made us some creme brulee for dessert. Incredible.

Come join us next time. (I’m hosting it on July 19th, but before that May’s meeting is at Chad & Michelle’s house, and Ken & John will host in June in their Over-the-Rhine courtyard).

Fountain Square has been…been, a mess. The grand opening in October was – poet politicking aside – a wee bit early. Despite that, I understand the celebration was top-notch and the entertainment spectacular, a testament to what is likely to come (I was out of town that weekend).

In the days and weeks afterward, though, the number one comment heard about the Square wasn’t how wonderful it was that Saturday — but how empty it was afterward. There was no place to sit down, nothing to look at and the Fountain had been emptied and turned off and there was barely room to move with all the construction equipment.

But there is real good news to report today. This evening’s tree-lighting ceremony (beginning at 5 p.m.) will be on a Square that looks much more done that its October predecessor.

Though lots of construction still litters the perimeter, the Fountain is on, the garage is covered in a bright white epoxy that gives it a brand-new, fresh and vibrant look (it is quite amazing actually how nice the garage looks), the big, new ice rink is filled, frozen and ready to go. It appears today new lights are being installed. The two little tent-shelters located on the east and west sides of the rink are filled with snacks to be sold and skates to be rented.

There are also a couple of noteworthy additions in recent days/weeks:

• About 20 Bose speakers have been installed on the Square, attached to light poles. Thursday they were playing sound — live CNN — from the large-screen display television above Macy’s. The new speakers will be helpful hearing Mayor Mark Mallory’s comments at this evening’s ceremony. He pre-recorded an announcement because he will not be able to be there.
• Several “Pay Here Parking” machines are located throughout the complex, both on the Square at the garage elevators and below inside the garage. With the pay-on-foot system, parkers will get a ticket as they enter the garage, pay at a machine before returning to their car and feed the validated ticket into an automatic gate to exit.
• Valet parking. Entering the garage from Vine Street and there’s a valet parking attendant location and a valet office nearby.
• Though police officers on the Square said they were told the Fountain had been turned off for the winter, the fountain is on and looks gorgeous. Later, others said water was in the Fountain for the opening but had to be drained again to apply more water-proofing.
• Video cameras were attached to light poles on the Square in recent days.
• The Square closes. The hours are pretty convenient, but never has the Square had a closing time in its history. From 3 a.m. to 6 a.m. everyday the Square will be off-limits, except to those entering or leaving the parking garage.
• A police officer from the downtown services unit is now assigned to the Square around the clock, according to one stationed there.

Privately, city leaders said they were very disappointed in the decision to rush the re-opening of the Square, feeling that the unveiling the city was having wasn’t an unveiling at all – it was a showcase too early of too little and a fear the public would right off the Square before its vision was fully realized.

They also said the delay was likely not the fault of the Cincinnati Center City Development Corp., or 3CDC, but that of the construction company hired to do the work. But it was 3CDC’s choice to move forward on the opening.

This was done, in part, because entertainers scheduled to appear had to be booked several weeks in advance. A major band scheduled to appear in September — when the Square was originally set to open — could not make the October opening, said Bill Donabedian,3CDC’s Fountain Square managing director, in September.

Despite the assertions to the contrary in recent weeks, 3CDC officials never said in the many months leading up to the unveiling they intended the Square to be a rolling open in any presentations I attended. I have heard the presentation countless times in the past few years and that was never mentioned until, well, it appeared that an uncompleted Square was inevitable. Officials from the private-public partnership did often say, however, that landscaping would not be complete. Why? Some of the trees, shrubbery and flowers to be planted would not be well-suited to being put in the ground in the fall.

Bringing the Genius of Water fountain – one of the city’s most identifiable landmarks – secretly on Sept. 2 without alerting the media, the public, or, well, anyone was as poor a stunt as the black-clad, briefcase-carrying “actors” that accompanied it.

Donabedian told at least one reporter who caught wind of the plans that telling the public of the plans to bring the fountain back amounted to us “ruining everything.” He told the Enquirer’s Sara Pearce that that “we tell people too much in this town.”

Frankly, we do not tell them enough.

Donabedian’s not-so-well-thought-out reason? People need to get in the habit of being downtown so they just happen to see the big happenings. Not good.

The morning the story ran in The Post and the few days after, I received so many letters, e-mails and phone calls thanking me for letting them know the Fountain would be coming back it was bit overwhelming. People in Cincinnati like to be told what’s going on — and they like it especially when their prized treasure is on the move. Some said this would be last local history-making event they would get to see in their lifetime.

Today, they have another chance to see something great. I look forward to tonight’s event and many more to come. There’s a good feeling around the Square — between restaurants opening and just general activity and the discussion of many things planned for nearby — that the public may catch the fever and create downtown’s much-needed and highly-anticipated long-missing buzz.

I hope I’m right.

For the first time in my life I think I finally know why it’s called “(Fountain) Square”. With everything gone, the area wiped clean of the concrete and marble and stage and Skywalk bridge and, well, the fountain, that area - low-and-behold - is actually a town friggin’ square. I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to go between the fence and tell the Dugan Meyer fellers it’s time to go home. We’re done. Thanks. Got it. We’ve got it from here. I’ll go grab some sod from Denny McKeown, lay it down and turn on the lawn sprinklers. We got ourselves a real, live civic center square. Woo-wee!

Out and about with my camera this morning, I snapped this shot of the renovation and (expected) revitalization of Fountain Square. Notice the fountain is, uh, not there. I understand it’s in Dan Hurley’s basement, for safe keeping.

It’s hard not to be excited about what’s happening downtown. Looking across the square - minus the fountain and the concrete barriers - I can almost envision what it will look like when it’s done: a city-center thriving with people and commerce and entertainment and activity. That’s good stuff. And those of us who live and love downtown look on with eager hesitation about what’s taking place and imagine the possibilities. Can it really happen? Will people who abandoned this part of their city come back? I hope so. They’d be missing so much if they didn’t.

I stopped into a shop where I’d never been before. The proprietor tells me she’s been open there for decades and I ask her how business is going. I always ask the small-business owners downtown when I stop in. I want to know. I’m always afraid of their answer.

“Not good,” she said, shaking her head. “Just look around. Retail does not do well downtown anymore.”

I suggest that maybe the Square’s re-working will spread across to her a few blocks away and bring her more customers.

“They’ve been saying that (about downtown) for three years,” she said. Will she make it, I ask. “I don’t know,” she replies.

As I walk around downtown, just like I did this morning, I am reminded just again of the beauty of this place. Blah, blah. I know. Likely it’s been heard before. But if you look up as you walk along the sidewalk at the buildings, the light hitting the still-wet streets, or step into the Omni hotel, Dixie Terminal or the Carew Tower - the handsomeness of this town is evident no matter where eyes are cast.

I get wide-eyed with romanticized views of what it can be, especially when I read the very compelling pseudo-commentary written by John Schneider in the February 15, 2006 edition of CityBeat (though I would caution my beloved CityBeat, in my humble opinion, from printing pieces of analysis and commentary under the guise of a news story without labeling it as such until the very wee end of the article when we learn the true identity of the piece’s author). Cincinnati is no Portland, Ore. - but it could be. This article makes me think a few tweaks here, a few enlightened minds there and A.G. Lafley will be sitting next to me on the light rail train on our ways to work. Does anyone else think this? Or are we too consumed in our own race to the suburbs, the fear of being “caught in the cross-fire” in the city (as a few people have suggested; I’ve yet to be shot once), that buses will forever be for poor people and downtown, too? Will we re-configure into a doughnut-shaped city where everything happens on the perimeter, yet we say we are from Cincinnati but live out our lives on the rim? I hope not.

A person I know - not from here - poked fun, I think, mistakenly, in an online message that the slogan “Don’t Trash the ‘Nati” is actually a way for a billboard to remind citizens that this place isn’t so bad and we ought not talk badly about ourselves. Though the slogan was actually a possibly misguided attempt for the “Keep Cincinnati Beautiful” organization to discourage littering, it’s interesting that it was taken differently. Does an outsider see what some have suggested and many refuse to see? That we just don’t think we can change? We are who we are because, well, that’s what we are? As a native, someone who truly loves this place and sees potential just about everywhere I turn, I hope not.

After this evening’s mayoral debate - sponsored by Cincinnati Advance, the Society of Professional Journalists, National Association of Black Journalists and WAIF-FM - between Ohio Senator Mark Mallory and Cincinnati City Councilman David Pepper, I headed home. No big deal. I had work to do. Only problem: I couldn’t get there.
Just about a block south of where I live a man fired shots from an assault rifle and then reportedly ran into the Belmont Cafe on Race Street, a few doors south of 12th Street - and just about a block south of where I live.
Workers at the bar then barricaded the door and wouldn’t let police in to investigate - a direct violation of state law. This then, according to police spokesman Lt. Kurt Byrd, sparked an intense police intervention. The kind of intervention that, ya know, brings out the S.W.A.T. and keeps people from going about their business - like going home.
That intervention included a six-block area around the scene - including where my apartment is located - being draped with yellow “Police Line - Do Not Cross” tape. The S.W.A.T. team was called, and a mini-convention of local media outlets - each TV station and newspaper well represented - all gathered to take it all in. I just wanted to go home.
I, with nothing better to do and unable to get to the pad, called an editor at the Enquirer to see if I could maybe at least earn a few dollars covering the story. The editor had dispatched the evening’s cops’ reporter to the scene, but he said he might want some photographs if “shooting broke out.”
Okay, then. I grabbed my camera and positioned myself with the other media folks.
All us journos sat around with our cameras and our notebooks aimed directly a half-block away, right at the front entrance of the Belmont. The TV folks aimed their microwave remote dishes straight at their respective newsrooms and went live at 11.
The most impressive part of the whole evening was the group arrival of the off-duty S.W.A.T. team members around 11:45 p.m. Central Parkway was closed and then all at once sirens and a convoy of private-person cars, trucks (lots of big pick-up trucks with large tires) and large police vans, cars and a big, black tank-looking truck with the large, white “S.W.A.T.” blazoned across the side zoomed past. Each vehicle had one person - presumably a member of the S.W.A.T. team - in it and they filed past us and headed for their staging area along 12th street. You know, near my bedroom window (the one where the crack addicts usually indulge in…well, lots of stuff).
S.W.A.T. went in a little later and then we waited. Nothing happened.
We waited longer and still not much happened after then news-wise and that’s pretty much the way it ended, with Lt. Byrd stopping by, sharing details of what we just saw with cameras rolling, notebooks filling and all of us glad to be able to soon leave.
According to Lt. Byrd, apparently the person with the assault rifle was real - police found shell casings on the ground outside the bar. But nothing and no one was found. Night over. Time to go home.
The Sit-a-Round
Sitting around at stories with other journalists is often fun. These sort of sit-and-wait news events lend themselves to us hanging around and getting to know each other, chatting about the stuff we’ve covered in the past, the characters we’ve covered, our lives and whatever.
Learned a bit about some of my colleagues, especially one local TV reporter and anchor who four years ago ran for Cincinnati’s mayor against Charlie Luken. He and I had never met, but he’d heard of the radio show I did this past summer (he did one once himself) and we got talking about the state of the city. He’s got a passion for this town that is inspiring, a caring that runs deeper than most. I share this with him on many levels. It was neat to talk to him.
Ah, home sweet…what?
Soon after all the media left and I tried to go home. Couldn’t though. Police were planning to keep the area closed for a while longer and the cops guarding the perimeter where unaware of what was going on, uh, again, near my front door. So now I am now typing this little ditty from the WAIF studios - about the only place close enough that I knew I could go that I could get in. I’m tired. I’m concerned. I’m frustrated.
People think I’m crazy for living where I do. Sometimes I think they’re right. It seems lately I have been feeling that more and more. Despite that, I’m convinced Over-the-Rhine, or OTR, as many call it, is a special place. Maybe you’ve heard it before: the architecture, the old buildings - all preserved, but deteriorating. Ironically, the abject poverty that set in here starting 40 and more years ago is what has allowed this neighborhood to stay pretty much the same. No money, no way to tear things down and build new stuff.
The only thing missing is the spirit that built this place, that made it this magnificent masterpiece, full of character and promise. I often walk the streets and wonder what it would’ve been like to have been living here 50 years ago. Or eighty years ago, or maybe even a hundred. Bet it was neat. Community-minded people everywhere.
OTR might just not be that special place for me right now. I wonder what it would be like to move a little farther south, into the true downtown. The crime rate is lower and the activity is centered around good restaurants, good entertainment and business (though it admittedly struggles, too). OTR has so many good people wanting to make it better. In the time being, though, I could be a victim of something horrific.
I heard one of the candidates this evening say there are 2,500 residents living in the central business district - what most would call “downtown” - right now. He said he would aim to increase that number to 10,000 during his time as mayor. Getting people to live downtown would certainly change the make-up of the people who hang out down there. It would undoubtedly make it better.
Along those same lines, had lunch yesterday with a friend who owns a restaurant in Over-the-Rhine. She, like me, believes the neighborhood could be more. But it just isn’t. At times it seems to be back-sliding. Not far and not fast, but it’s slipping. She called it a mess. I don’t want to admit it, but I think she’s right. It needs people like she and I, we both agreed, but geez, in the time being…
That former mayoral candidate and TV anchor said in the nearly two decades that he has lived here he’s seen a change, too. He said the town doesn’t know how to have fun anymore. When he got here Cincinnati - downtown - was a fun place. He likened it now to a kid growing up and forgetting how to enjoy itself.
I remember what he is talking about. A friend and I used to ride the bus downtown and hang out downtown- see a movie on the Skywalk, play video games at the arcade and ate at McDonald’s. I dare you to find a movie theater, a video arcade or a McDonald’s downtown. Heck, I almost dare you to find the Skywalk. Downtown in the mid-80s was a different place. I used to come downtown to visit my Uncle Steve who lived at the 4th & Plum Apartments and was entranced by what I saw. Being a suburban kid, coming downtown seemed exotic and I guess really kind of was. My travels on the bus became a hot topic of discussion among my family and extended family at gatherings and dinner tables. I just loved it here - and I felt safe.
I’m not so sure that it’s just that the city lost it’s ability to have fun. I think too many people gave up too long ago and moved too far away to care that much about it anymore - even though we all point to downtown and Cincinnati when we talk about where we’re from. But I don’t see that magic anymore. I wonder what happened, why it happened. I miss it. And seeing the S.W.A.T. on my front doorstep as I wander home one evening after hearing two of the candidates for mayor is like buying a shiny new bike and then having it stolen upon taking it for its first spin. You wonder what’s the point.

It’s just not everyday you get to see a Cincinnati City Councilman dressed up in lederhosen. Come to think of it, that’s true unless you’re talking about Jim Tarbell. The Cincinnati City Councilman likes to dress up. I’ve also seen him in long tails and top hat. But the good thing is he’s always in the spirit of the occasion - a true showman. Sunday was no different when I spotted him at Cincinnati’s annual celebration of its German-influenced heritage known as Oktoberfest-Zinzinnati.

Living downtown lends itself to doing things downtown. It might be my favorite part of being down here. Of all the festivals that happen down here - and there are some neat ones - I like this one the best. Call me biased, but maybe my German heritage leads me to that conclusion. But during Oktoberfest weekend, everyone in the Greater Cincinnati area is a little German.

Gotta say, too, that I was a little bummed I didn’t get a chance to see Uncle Al and Captain Wendy. Doing the chicken dance with them all these years later (when they first taught me to throw my elbows back and twist, twist, twist at my waist) would have been a distinct honor. I am so happy - even though I missed it - that they agreed to come back to town to do this. I have such fond memories of watching their show as a child.

(By the way, I had noticed a while ago - and had planned to write about it, but an editor declined the story - to write about how WCPO was selling Uncle Al t-shirts and other items. But apparently Uncle Al asked the station to stop selling the stuff.)

And though I’m German (my father immigrated here in 1955 when he was 7 1/2 years old), I don’t own a pair of those…things. And I’ve been asked why a few times. See, my family - thank God in Heaven - is from the northwestern region (a county, for all intents) of Germany known as Emsland. There they don’t wear lederhosen. That’s a southern-Germany thing. And I will forever be grateful. But, hey, Tarbell looks good in ‘em.

At, oh, around say 6 p.m. or so my mother called to double-check that I wasn’t now changing my voter registration to Precinct YBR in Oz, Kansas or something after the kaboom surprise thunderstorms swept through the area.

Living in Over-the-Rhine the sound of thunderclaps have to be weighed against the sound of gun shots against the sound of fireworks being shot off against the whatever-the-hell-that-was sounds of everyday life down here - just to determine the best save-your-life way to react. Shall I: Go to the basement, run full speed to my car bent over at the waist, turn on my weather radio, call the police, get under my bed, request medical attention, carry my baseball bat around, just write in my Blog or step away from the window? It’s a tough call sometimes, but for those not familiar with the area, usually stepping away from the window is a good call no matter what.

No rain in OTR today, which is odd with the permanent black cloud overhead. (It’s worth noting here that I truly love living in this neighborhood, but it has its challenges. I think I have a right to poke fun at my leisure.)

But anyway, way out in the suburbs from whence I came and my parents still live and have moved farther out into, my Mother found herself at Wal-Mart when the rough weather struck. And here’s where my funny tail begins, told from my Mom to me, and now to you, with some embellishment…

Judy (my mom) walks into the Colerain Avenue Wal-Mart, gets about 50 feet in and the front doors of the store blow open and hail and heavy rain begins to fall outside. Undoubtedly filled with shoppers about that time, the Wal-Mart blue-smocked workers started ordering people to the ground. Every shopper for themselves.

I could only imagine witnessing all this. To me, this conjured up images of Wal-Mart worker-heroes putting to use the employee training they never thought they’d need. That sleepy day in training just hours after they were handed their pin-less bright blue polyester smock with the “How May I Help You” emblazoned across the back, told the dress code and given a load full of crap about teamwork. And then there was that sorta interesting part of the training manual about what to do in an emergency, Code Adam gone awry, or when the flimsy construction of the store’s roof blew off in a stiff breeze. Just like today, when Judy, my Mom, was picking up some sundries.

Snapping into action, I can only guess those workers were thinking it’ll be just mere hours before the Bentonville, Ark. television commercial production staff would be setting up movie lights in the parking lot. That bouncing yellow smiley face would be there applying make-up in a trailer nearby. Then they’d all star in a community-oriented Wal-Mart TV commercial, aired nationally during the Super Bowl.

But alas, the roof stayed intact and the circular clothing racks presenting the Chinese-made sweat pants cushioned the fall of the people ducking for cover. No need for the clerks to tear their blue smocks into long, narrow strips to apply tourniquets to the wounded or administer CPR to Granny as the stress ‘o the moment caused blood to clot in her elderly lungs. Also no need for leg splints for those caught in the cinder-block rubble.

Surprise, though. Target, brand-new and just a few miles south and only a quarter mile from where the new Super Center Wal-Mart is being built along Colerain Avenue - that place was blown to bits. Workers and shoppers strewn everywhere… There is a God. And he loves Wal-Mart. Okay, just kidding about this last part.

Okay. I admit, that was odd. How ’bout we talk about my black bathroom? Alright? Good.

I’m in the process of buying a little home. In it, there’s a little bathroom. In that bathroom I’ve chosen to put in black elements, like a black whirlpool bathtub and a black sink and a black toilet.

Never have I known the costs associated with blackness. Take your average toilet. It costs like $400. My word. A toilet? That much? I have a whole new respect for toilets. But get this: My black toilet? Like $800. That’s ridiculous. The matching black pedestal sink was like $400. On a per square-foot basis I think I may end up having the single most expensively-equipped room in Northside - maybe even the city. And you’re all invited to pee in it when it’s done.

G’night.