The Eden Park Art Academy

 Registration Receipt, Art Academy of Cincinnati [9/24/1928].

From my Great Uncle Jack's time at school.

• • • • • • • • • •

After skimming over some updates regarding CAM's temporarily-shelved plans for expansion (described in Maya's post last year) last night, I was reminded about the horror-that-almost-was (+ & +) for the old Art Academy building under Rub. Thankfully, the recession hit (+) and CAM got a new Director (+), which means new life for the building.

CAM Expansion Plans (concept model) [2007].
More info on this project here (+).
Image source: Visualingual.

CAM & Art Academy [1928].

Image source.

I'm obviously not thankful that the recession in general hit (except for the drop in lofty home prices), but thinking about another stalwart of Cincinnati's skyline being torn down always stings a little - not only because I'm an obvious proponent of Cincinnati history, historical structures as related to Cincinnati's noteriety, and the preservation of them both, but because of my personal ties to them (i.e. the spotlight pic).

Coming soon: A glimpse into the Ross Family Tree.

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Local Flora & Fauna

Fountain Square (1978)

Click on the images for a larger view.

June 1978 (or at least that was the development date)... a long time ago. The Square looked a lot different back then - more like a traditional European plaza. Stark, arid, flat... the 70s.

I'm assuming my mom was taking the shot (as she always was), with my grandparents, dad, and sister by the fountain. In the first pic, I'm standing solo near the outer figure on the left of the fountain, entranced by the jets.

Additionally, noting that the US Census is around the corner (June 2010), and Mayor Mallory's valiant efforts to update the city's statistics recently, this is a small remembrance of times past: Even though the 70s marked Cincinnati's slow decline in population movement, it still had roughly 100,000 more people in it's borders than today (with Ohio being the 6th most populated state). A recent discussion on city life with a long-time downtown worker conjured up a vivid nostalgia of the streets' dawn-to-dusk vitality that existed in those days.

The Ross Family Truckster

 Vacation (1983). 
Clark and Rusty checking out their
new metallic pea-green Wagon Queen Family Truckster.

Lets start at the beginning:  The mode of transport used to explore the city in my younger years. A car that helped to ingrain our routine travel escapades into memorable occurrences...

Not unlike the 'love' that the Griswold's had for their Truckster, we celebrated these trips in an army-green behemoth with faux-wood siding, aluminum luggage rack, and hidden rear-facing back seat (with green synthetic carpet) exiting to the back "5th door". A glorious masterpiece of automotive aesthetics.

 The Ross Family Truckster (1978).
That's me in front, burning my fingertips on
our 1970s Buick Estate Station Wagon.

This picture was taken in the late-70s, a time when the summers seemed extremely arid and the winters deeply lush. Maybe I'm just associating this with the vinyl seats - scalding and sticky in the summer, cold and rigid in the winter - or the weak ventilation in the car, but nevertheless, the encompassing faded-grey urban environment showed increasing wear - an abundance of cracked concrete and worn metal. This was especially apparent with our frequent trips down Fort Washington Way: 

 Fort Washington Way overpass (January 1977). 
My sister cheerfully eating cotton candy in the middle of winter
near the now-extinct Riverfront Coliseum. 

We were Eastsiders (specifically, Andersonians), so to get to this location, we normally ignored the outerbelt and took Columbia Parkway (eastern artery from downtown). 

The interesting thing about the parkway at that time was that residents living on the hill above could temporarily park their cars on the side of the road, then climb steps that were built into the hillside retaining wall to their homes. I always thought that was so cool, yet hazardous because of the high speed limit, lack of stoplights, and proximity to passing traffic.

Also, the hillside and surrounding environment were always overgrown (maybe remnants of Longworth's experimental vineyards), and again, during the summer everything looked kind of scorched, which made an imaginary trip up any of the multitude of stairways a little disconcerting - you could never really see where the paths ended.

Regardless of these immature environmental perceptions, this was Cincinnati in its heyday to me - the muddy-toned late-70s and early-80s.

Aside from the basics of analog technologies - AM/FM radio tuners, free four-channel TV, and pea-green wall-mounted telephones with 50' spiral cords - there were no "modern" tools of mass communication being used yet en masse. You could only just barely catch the scent of cell phones, cable TV, and personal computers (gaming systems, internet, etc.). Thus, there always seemed to be people on the streets, events in the air, and a general love for your neighborhood. Everything seemed to have a purity - every action was a wholesome, somewhat enigmatic, yet fully-anticipated destination...

   

...the good ol' days.