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The
Spine of the City
The Best of Vine Street finds all the news and urban legends fit
to print
by Nichelle M. Bolden, Stephanie Dunlap and Steve Ramos
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Schwartz's
Point is one of many historic buildings on Vine Street in
Over-the-Rhine.
Photo:
Matt Borgerding
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The key political rallying cry of the moment, the one favored
by Democratic Presidential Candidate John Kerry, is that there are
various Americas, rich and poor, ethnic and white, those with health
benefits and those without, the political insiders and the rest of
us. Basically, America is a country divided, and Kerry pledges unity.
The same theory of separation can be said for Cincinnati’s Vine
Street. City Councilman Jim Tarbell refers to the 11-mile long central
artery that runs from the riverfront to the bedroom suburb of Wyoming
as the “spine of the city,” but the historic street more
closely resembles a series of broken pieces snaking its way through
both prosperous and depressed neighborhoods.
Look past the newspaper crime reports, however, and you see on Vine
Street the liveliness and work ethic that once made Cincinnati boom
and continues to give the city hope for a prosperous future.
Advice from O-T-R’s ambassador
Who should one turn to for an expert’s view on Vine Street,
especially with regard to its path through the center city neighborhood
of Over-the-Rhine? Tarbell, who’s made developing Over-the-Rhine
the focus of his political life, is the evident guide.
On a recent walk, heading north from Central Parkway to Liberty Street,
Tarbell rattles off key statistics. When he moved to Over-the-Rhine
in 1971, there were 20,000 people and a dozen social service agencies.
Today there are about 6,000 people and 60 social service agencies.
Some 500 buildings — almost one in every three — sit vacant
on the 360 square acres that make up the historic neighborhood.
A “housing debacle” began here in the late 1960s with
the lure of money from a federal Housing and Urban Development grant,
Tarbell says. It became more lucrative for property owners to create
low-income, project-based Section 8 housing than to continue hosting
commercial or retail tenants. The new housing drew in waves of people
dependent on welfare.
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City
Councilman Jim Tarbell says Vine Street today is "a
testament to the energy that built it in the first place."
Photo: CityBeat Archives
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Without the leaders or economy to reinvigorate and reinvent the area,
Tarbell says Over-the-Rhine started feeding on itself, creating an
“economic ghetto.”
“What’s amazing is that all this has survived despite
that,” Tarbell says, gesturing north from Central Parkway to
architecturally significant buildings. “It’s a testament
to the energy that built it in the first place.”
Years earlier, the liveliness of its densely-packed residents —
aided and abetted by a concentration of saloons, dance halls, cabarets,
opera houses and flowing beer taps — earned Cincinnati the nickname
“Paris of North America.” More beer was consumed here
per person than any other city in the country. More than 250 liquor
licenses were issued to businesses between the river and McMicken
Avenue.
“Drinking beer was a big deal,” Tarbell says, redundantly.
In the 19th century, he says, the whole of Vine from the river up
looked a lot more like today’s Court Street than either the
staid business district south of Central or the boarded-up buildings
north of it.
As we walk up Vine, he talks about the history, current state and
uncertain future of many buildings. He points out the second, third,
fourth and fifth stories of structures from whose ground-level human
activity I hadn’t thought to raise my eyes. Above most windows
are the detailed cornices typical of Cincinnati’s famous “Italianate”
architecture.
Where Vine intersects with Findlay Street, the side of a red brick
building proclaims “Apothe.” Tarbell says such drugstores
used to inhabit every corner of Over-the-Rhine.
Musician Ed Moss now occupies the stone “Schwartz’s Point”
building just across the street, where he plays music and serves in
a sort of modern-day speakeasy, Tarbell says.
“Every one of these buildings has a proud history,” he
says. “There are all kinds of things going on inside these buildings
that you would never imagine if all you went by was the activity on
the street.” (SD)
The legend of Vine Street Betty
Once upon a time, she was rumored to be a beautiful woman.
Over the years — due to reasons beyond her control or understanding
— she morphed into a haggard, crazy old prostitute who wandered
Vine Street scaring little kids, pimps, prostitutes and tricks alike.
Some say she snapped after losing three children in a fire. Others
say she was murdered by one of her johns or possibly by her pimp.
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Carthage's
"Auto Row"
Photo: Matt Borgerding
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The story, like any other urban legend, was used as an object lesson
for parents to scare the hell out of you and, in turn, for you to
scare your playmates. Either way I heard it, there was no fooling
with Vine Street Betty on any level.
My younger sister, Amber, imagined her on wheels.
“She just seemed like she’d be flyin’ around, haunting
the prostitutes and tricks on the corners,” Amber says. “I
always saw her as having long, scaly fingers, crazy-looking hair and
just saying ‘Blaaaaahhh!’ to everyone on the street.”
Intrigued by her version of the story, I decide to go on a mission
to find the mythical Vine Street Betty. My first stop is Williams
Pony Keg on the corner of Vine and Liberty streets, an Over-the-Rhine
institution.
“I’m sorry,” the owner says, rather hesitantly.
“I don’t know about no Vine Street Betty and I’ve
been here for 28 years.”
“Vine Street Betty?” her patron and card partner interjects.
“Yeah. This lady’s from CityBeat and wants to know ’bout
Vine Street Betty.”
“Aw, Vine Street Betty was a man,” the patron says. “A
he/she, they call ’em. I was in the pen wit’ him. Anyway,
she was tall, had blonde hair, used to walk up and down the street.
Anyway, ’bout 30 sum’tin’ years ago, he beat up
’bout four or five policemen over on Sycamore.”
The story floors me. Not once did I think that Vine Street Betty was
a blonde, ex-con transvestite who battled cops. Then, the story takes
a more surprising turn.
“There was ’nother Vine Street Betty, too,” he adds.
“She dis’ppeared ’bout 15-16 years ago. She was
a short, stocky, white girl — used to sell herself, too. They
found her hangin’ from the Brent Spence Bridge. I heard you
can still see the rope hangin’ under the bridge. Oh yeah, the
first Vine Street Betty — she’s a minister now. Got her
own church up somewhere on McMicken.”
Next, I speak with a twentysomething, hoping to see if Betty’s
legend has carried over to the next generation. I bring him up to
date on Vine Street Betty and describe what urban legends are.
“Ohhh, it’s like if you give a pigeon rice,” he
says. “Yeah, if you give a pigeon rice their stomach swells
and causes them to blow up, or so I’ve heard. But to answer
your question, naw, I ain’t heard of Vine Street Betty, but
I have heard of Bouncin’ Betty.”
A gentleman passerby overhears our discussion.
“Ya’ll talkin’ ’bout Vine Street Betty? She
was a man. One o’ the most toughest white boys ’round
here. He dead now.”
So we’re told. (NB)
Giving the Indian sign
It’s an early Sunday morning in Carthage, and Chief Pontiac,
the original symbol of the General Motors car brand, watches over
a gritty strip of Vine Street once known as “Auto Row.”
This stretch was home to new car dealerships, beginning as far north
as Hartwell and ending adjacent to Cincinnati’s industrial valley
of plants and railroad lines with a Packard showroom in Elmwood Place.
The dealerships — Ford, Chrysler-Plymouth, Buick, Packard and
the original lot for Jake Sweeney Pontiac — are gone, either
shuttered or, like Sweeney, relocated to the outer suburbs. Yet a
new version of “Auto Row” has taken its place, a low-budget
collection of used car lots decorated in red, white and blue bunting,
colorful flags and banners promoting on-site financing.
The towering Chief, the famous 50-foot “Indian sign where Paddock
meets Vine,” remains in the same spot at Vine and 75th streets
where he was built and erected 50 years ago by Jake Sweeney. The lot,
white concrete sales building and adjacent service garage haven’t
changed much over time.
The difference is the types of cars on the lot. What once held new
Pontiac Star Chiefs and Chieftains shifted to various makes of used
cars — including Toyota Corollas and Ford Mustangs — under
the ownership of Cherokee Motors, which ran the lot from the mid-1960s,
and the lot’s current owners, Todd Smith and his father, Jack,
proprietors of MotorTime Auto Sales.
“This two-mile stretch of Vine Street was like the auto mall
in Mason,” Barry Richmond says. “If you were going to
buy a new car, you either came to the showrooms on Vine Street or
you went downtown.”
Three generations of car hobbyists are behind Motor Time. Barry owns
some classic Corvettes. Ben has worked in car dealerships all his
life. His grandfather bought and restored cars for extra income. His
mother does the accounting for the dealership. His grandmother comes
and helps answer phones throughout the week.
The MotorTime office is filled with car memorabilia and old photos.
A 1948 restored Texaco gas pump stands against a back office wall.
An antique metal Indian head sign for Pontiac Service hangs on a sidewall
next to a 1932 car plate.
When a customer walks through the office door to ask about a car,
salesmanship quickly replaces reminiscing.
“It’s a great little car, and I think it has new tires,”
Ben tells the customer.
The sales price listed on the window sticker is $2,200, but Ben tells
him that for $2,000 he can drive the car off the lot. The customer
promises to think about and come back later in the day.
“This is what I was meant to do, I guess,” Ben says, watching
the customer leave the lot.
Business is good at MotorTime.
Ben and his father witness the growing diversity of the surrounding
neighborhoods firsthand by the variety of customers who come to their
car lot. Various showroom buildings are still around, but the dealerships
are gone.
“You know where the flea market is across from the Hamilton
County Fairgrounds?” Barry asks. “That’s where the
Ford dealership used to be.”
Chief Pontiac’s mechanical arm stopped waving years ago. The
neon lighting that outlines his figure is also broken. But the sign
was repainted last year and sparkles as if it was 1954 all over again.
“Some people may say that the sign is politically incorrect,
but it’s a symbol of Pontiac and its cars,” Barry says.
“It takes pride in that.”
A birthday celebration is planned this summer to mark Chief Pontiac’s
50 years as the sentry of Vine Street’s Auto Row. Follow the
Indian Sign, and you’ll witness Vine Street history. (SR)
Best of the Rest
of Vine Street
Best Place to Drink Green Juice and Feel Great About It:
Total Juice Plus
Lebanese owner Joe Mallat remembers his customers and their likes
— or, more importantly, their dislikes. Joe’s son Emile
works there, too, and he’s the kind of genuine, polite kid you’d
want as a parent even if you don’t want kids. This family’s
affair is your health: Vitamin-rich wheatgrass juice can be added
to delicious smoothies and freshly juiced juice blends or taken pure
as the only shot your body will thank you for. The menu also includes
delicious wraps and salads and an array of healthful cookies and not-so-healthful-but-gooey-delicious
baklava. Total Juice Plus, 631 Vine St., Downtown, 513-784-1666.
Best Place to Be Talked Into Anything
Old-School:
Reliable Jewelry and Loan
The windows here are alternately stacked with stereo receivers, old
bicycles and cameras. The owner could probably sell one of those bicycles
to a fish. Inside one man’s junk is your treasure, and there’s
nearly as many of them as dust motes. A snarky resident cat is a nice
final touch. Reliable Jewelry and Loan, 927 Vine St., Downtown, 513-241-2016.
Best Hidden Treasure:
Suder’s Art Store
The art store is probably sticking around ’til the new Art Academy
opens about two blocks away on 12th and Jackson streets. Bars on the
windows belie the wonders inside. If you can’t find anything
here to paint with, glue together or write on, you need a vacation.
Suder’s Art Store, 1309 Vine St., Over-the-Rhine, 513-241-0800.
Second Best Thing for Cinergy:
Smitty’s Men’s and Boy’s Wear
A favorite Vine Street spectacle, this well-lit men’s clothing
store (plus a sweetheart city deal for convention center naming rights)
must keep local energy carrier Cinergy pretty happy. Smitty’s
owner seems the charismatic huckster, like someone right out of The
Sopranos, immediately affable. He corners City Councilman Jim Tarbell
for information on buying a building two doors down to fix it into
a ladies’ apparel store. You know we need the retail down here,
he says. Tarbell says he’ll see what he can do. Smitty’s
Men’s and Boy’s Wear, 1425 Vine St., Over-the-Rhine, 513-721-7335.
Best Gastronomical Surprise:
Tucker’s Restaurant
Talk about family values: Joe Tucker’s parents started the restaurant
in 1946, his brother still runs the restaurant’s first location
on 13th and Joe has run this place for 26 years. Joe displays a menu
from 1963 selling 10-cent coffee. Though coffee prices are higher
today, now Tuckers also offers the kind of vegetarian chili that doesn’t
merely omit meat but substitutes it with some kind of soy or wheat
“textured vegetable protein.” (Really, it tastes much,
much better than it sounds. When I first unwittingly tried it, I called
up the deli and chewed out some poor worker for tricking me into eating
ground beef.)
Tuckers veggie chili is an impressive, unexpected touch. According
to Joe, it sells like — maybe even better than — hotcakes.
It’s a small part of a reasonable menu and a friendly, colorful,
multicultural mix of diners that includes a lot of locals and regulars.
Tucker’s Restaurant, 1637 Vine St., Over-the-Rhine, 513-721-7123.
Best Bow(wow) to the Obvious:
The statue of a St. Bernard dog in parking lot of
IGA /Dollar Store located … where else? IGA/Dollar Store, 4950
Vine St., St. Bernard, 513-242-9000.
Best Free Music Break:
Old Time Music Co.
Saturday afternoon Bluegrass jams attract local music veterans and
newcomers for some impromptu performances guaranteed to bring a smile
to your face. The concerts take place in a side room adjacent to shelves
of mandolins, sheet music and assorted used instruments.
The space resembles a weather-beaten cafe with its worn tables and
chairs, but the Bluegrass music is first rate and always free. Shop
owner and veteran musician Vernon McIntyre and his wife Kitty live
in the apartment above the store, which makes the spot something of
a Bluegrass mecca. Old Time Music Co., 6019 Vine St., Elmwood Place,
513-242-1442.
Best Vibes:
Some Place Different Friendly Foods & Spirits
It’s like a downtown hipster Lava Lounge for the Country crowd.
A photo of the Rat Pack hangs next to Corona pendants. There’s
a pool table, a lot of denim and some sparkle, velvet and upswept
hair. A good ol’ bar menu offers homemade Ranch dressing, “Zsa
Zsa” (large salad), “Eva Gabor” (smaller version)
and “George Bush” Texas-style chili (a bowl of Bush is
$2.50, the cheapest but probably not the only way to buy the Pres).
In a back room a DJ alternately spins Country and Techno while a females-only
group line dances under flashing colored lights. Five feet away a
long-haired man plays darts.
What’s different here, says owner Barbara Thompson, is that
everyone gets along — even though white collar, blue collar,
Hispanics, African Americans and bikers mingle here, there’s
never been a fight. “I don’t know how it happened, but
that’s how I wanted it here,” she says. “I wanted
everyone to feel comfortable.” Some Place Different Friendly
Foods & Spirits, 8087 Vine St., Hartwell, 513-821-3096. ©
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