Tennessee Williams infamously said, “America has only three cities: New York, San Francisco, and New Orleans. Everywhere else is Cleveland.” I adore the quote, and I have used it before—after all, I do love New York, San Francisco, and New Orleans! But I haven’t been everywhere. So why not a trip to Cleveland? And one must appreciate the randomness of a trip to Cleveland for my first flight since we were all locked down for Coronavirus.
The Arcade, a quintessential Cleveland landmark, is where I find my hotel, the Hyatt Regency at the Arcade.
I knew nothing about Cleveland. Who really does? The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame and the theme song for the Drew Carey Show comes to mind. My late Aunt Barbara Belle Broussard, who lived a portion of her life in Columbus, once told me that Cleveland is the armpit of the Midwest. But when I discovered that Poi Dog Pondering was playing a venue at a time when I could get away, Cleveland moved to the top of my list.
And as readers here know, I can immerse myself into the culture and background of the places I travel—the makings of a fun-filled vacation and a fact-filled TroysArt travelogue…
Wondering if Cleveland is a safe city, a Google search finds the city on the Cuyahoga River as one of the least safe cities in America. According to WalletHub, Cleveland ranks 162 out of 182 in their 2020 analysis of “Safest Cities in America”. Cleveland has also had the distinction as “The Most Miserable City in the United States” according to a Forbes list. Cleveland won this dubious honor because of dismal weather, pollution, high crime, high taxes, corruption of public officials, and poorly performing sports teams. Cleveland has become known as The Mistake by the Lake. Perhaps it was the armpit of the Midwest, but I was determined to enjoy it.
“Profit is not a dirty word in Ohio.” ~James Allen Rhodes
Every bit of architecture in downtown Cleveland is special and spectacular, grand in the great Beaux Arts style that captains of industry loved so well.
Once known as Millionaire’s Row, Euclid Avenue’s concentration of wealth was unparalleled in America—in the late 19th century, tax valuation of the mansions along The Avenue exceeded the valuation of New York’s Fifth Avenue as home to some of the nation’s most powerful industrialists. But these men did not just build mansions along the elm-lined promenades, they donated money and funded churches, universities, and museums.
Opened in 1890 on Euclid Avenue, the Cleveland Arcade was the first shopping mall in America. It was modeled after a similar gallery in Milan, Italy, and financed by residents of Millionaire’s Row—men like John D. Rockefeller, Charles Brush, Marcus Hanna, and Louis Severance. The Arcade, a quintessential Cleveland landmark, is where I found my hotel, the Hyatt Regency at the Arcade.
And The Arcade did not disappoint! Dripping in gilded architecture, drenched with light, and crowded with bridal party photo shoots there are restaurants, bars, spas, and even a post office. Lavish wedding receptions occurred in The Arcade nightly.
The Cleveland Trust Building has become Heinen’s Grocery Story, and known as the most beautiful supermarket in the world with Tiffany Glass and colonnades.
Cleveland was always innovative. For example, it was the first city to be lit by electricity. In 1879, Charles Brush illuminated Public Square, a block from my hotel, with the first electric traffic signal at the intersection of Euclid and East 105th St.
And as a new destination for hipsters, this new IT city has repurposed the stunning bank buildings along Euclid. The Cleveland Trust Building has become Heinen’s Grocery Story, and known as the most beautiful supermarket in the world with Tiffany Glass and colonnades. Guardian Savings & Trust on Euclid is now the elite Marble Room, a raw bar and steak house.
At the Blue Pointe I discover friendly service and good food in a rehabilitated grand old building.
Yards away from The Arcade is 4th Street. Blocked off from automobile traffic, the street is wall-to-wall craft cocktail bars, breweries, hip restaurants, comedy clubs, high-end residential lofts, and even the House of Blues. There is also no shortage of beggars hitting every passerby up for money.
I became especially fond of Society Lounge on 4th. My friends know my struggle with craft cocktails—I mean, do we really have to muddle the lavender? Just pour us a damn drink already! Charge 1/3 less and serve twice as many. But the drinks were as delicious as the dark and chic atmosphere. I visited daily.
With a reasonably priced bar menu, the snapper sandwich and steak tartar were favorites.
A true foodie paradise, there are extraordinary bars and eateries in every neighborhood. In the warehouse district a few blocks closer to the river is Blue Pointe Grille. At the Blue Pointe I discovered friendly service, happy patrons, and good food in a rehabilitated grand old building. With a reasonably priced bar menu, the snapper sandwich and steak tartar were favorites. It is the place I would hang out if I lived in Cleveland.
“I love the normalcy of Cleveland. There’s regular people there.” –Drew Carey
One of the world’s most haunting specimens of funerary art exists in Cleveland. “The Angel of Death Victorious”—a life-sized guardian angel marking the grave of Francis Haserot in Lakeview Cemetery—and to me it was must see. Though I am not ordinarily a cemetery tourist, Cleveland’s 280-acre Lakeview Cemetery contains over 100,000 graves including business moguls and a president. It is not that Haserot was particularly famous—a German immigrant, Francis Haserot was a canning tycoon. But he is most known for his 1924 grave marker. Wings outstretched, the bronze angel holds an overturned torch symbolizing life extinguished. But the most powerful feature of this sculpture, likely inadvertent, is the way the bronze has aged upon the face. Known simply as the Weeping Angel, eerie tears stream from the sockets down her face and neck. Some visitors claim to have seen the angel weep or move. Though she sat perfectly still upon my inspection.
“The Angel of Death Victorious”—a life-sized guardian angel marking the grave of Francis Haserot in Lakeview Cemetery
Aside from occasional landscapers sprinkled throughout the grounds, I was all alone as I hiked the wooded hills in search of monuments of interest. I saw the white marble Rockefeller obelisk–very impressive. But of all the spectacular funerary art, the Angel of Death Victorious was the most breathtaking. There is a reason this monument draws a crowd.
The masterful monument was built by Herman Matzen (1861-1938), a Danish-born sculptor. Despite a number of monumental public sculptures, mostly in Great Lakes region, his name is obscure. The artist is buried in Lakewood Cemetery, the same hallowed ground as his most esteemed masterpiece.
Lakeview Cemetery is also the final resting place of James Abram Garfield (1831-1881), the 20th President of the USA.
Lakeview Cemetery is also the final resting place of James Abram Garfield (1831-1881), the 20th President of the USA. If you cannot recall what the Garfield administration was known for, there is good reason. Born dirt poor, a self-made man, a Union General who fought in the battles of Shiloh and Chickamauga, Republicans unexpectedly nominated him while a sitting Congressman in 1880. He won but was assassinated four months after taking office. With the assassination of Abraham Lincoln deemed a fluke because of the Civil War, Garfield, like most people, saw no reason for the president to be overly guarded. Charles J. Guiteau, a psychopath with nothing particularly against Garfield, sought to end his disgruntlement with the Republican Party by shooting him in the back. The assassination sanctified Garfield—despite his short period of time as the chief executive, he rests in one of the most elaborate Presidential gravesites, a multi-story Gilded Age gothic tower, masterful in its architecture and featuring exquisite stained glass, intricate mosaics, and abundant statues.
Unfortunately the Garfield monument was locked up upon my visit, which confounded and disappointed me. My Uber driver back to the hotel suggested that the gravesite was locked due to Covid. “That makes no sense,” I replied. “Mr. Garfield is already dead.”
In fact, every bit of laziness that I experienced on the trip was due to Covid. Covid is just a blanket excuse for mediocrity. An Everything Bagel with a slice of provolone in a microwavable bag serves as First Class breakfast on United Airlines now—oh, and limit one cocktail per flight. Covid protocol. Thank you for understanding as we all do our part. Room service at the hotel had an additional fee which is odd since “Room Service” is actually in the name of the menu. And despite elevated Covid fees, it is dropped off at the door in a brown paper bag with plastic utensils, no linens, no silver tray. Let’s all pay extra as we do our part to accept less.
“In Cleveland there is legislation moving forward to ban people from wearing pants that fit too low. However, there is lots of opposition from the plumber’ union.” –Conan O’Brien
Of the five fine arts disciplines—paintings, sculpture, architecture, poetry, and music—I am particularly adept at three. Poetry and music is where I find deficiencies. Surprisingly it is the latter which brings me to the Buckeye State, The Rock & Roll Capital of the World.
In 1990 I attended a Michelle Shocked concert in Houston at the Tower Theatre—now Acme Oyster House. What I did not expect was the warm-up band, a group that was new to me: Poi Dog Pondering. It was the most exhilarating stage show I had ever seen and far outshined the main event. At one point the lead singer began to swing his microphone out over the crowd in a circular motion like an orbiting comet—it could have been a light bulb, I was stoned. Anyway, I was hooked and attended their performances where they played for several years.
Poi Dog Pondering started with four musicians on stage and the show and sound grew progressively to the encore’s climax of God’s Gallipoli which ignited the room.
The band is distinguished for a mix of genres, a hybrid of acoustic, electronic, and soul. Frank Orrall founded the group in Hawaii in the ‘80s.
“I started to play on the street in Waikiki with a few friends for fun and spare change,” says Orrall on his website, “and would sell the cassettes out of the guitar case.”
Poi Dog settled in Texas during Austin’s music heyday and lost its distinct Hawaiian vibe. Austin is where they found their big break and inked record deals with Sony. They made albums and toured but somehow never really hit it big. Perhaps the excitement and vitality of the stage show didn’t translate to a radio audience. To Chicago in the ‘90s, Poi Dog Pondering regrouped and incorporated orchestral arrangements with components of electronic, house, and soul into their unique style.
Though the membership of Poi Dog Pondering has evolved, Frank Orrall has been a constant since the beginning. Susan Voelz, a Grammy nominated musician, is another quintessential and consistent member of the band. Not a fan of violin music, I however like hers. Her emotively stunning performance in Falling, both standard and extended versions, have long been a favorite for me.
One morning over the summer I was listening to an old Poi Dog Pondering CD and, on a whim, found a concert in Cleveland, Ohio. This trip was born.
Now I have never minded traveling alone—I enjoy the freedom. But sitting alone at a concert, at a table in a dinner theater, sounds a little sad. So in preparation for the big show I arranged a companion through a perfectly reputable disreputable website. And my date with Angel was born. When Angel arrived to the hotel it escalated what was already an amazing Cleveland vacation. And after a bit of getting acquainted over a craft cocktail our limo picked us up at the base of 4th Street to transport us to the venue.
For a band he had never heard of, Angel was blown away, even though he was the youngest person in attendance.
The Music Box Supper Club is located in The Flats, on the East Bank of the Cuyahoga River—a waterway that I had yet seen.
The Cuyahoga River roughly translates to crooked river. But some Clevelanders literally believe the moniker translates to “river on fire.” The Cuyahoga River has been on fire 13 times. 13,000 years old, it is considered an infant glacier river, one of North America’s newest rivers to be formed by a retreating glacier—wait, what, there was Climate Change 13,000 years ago? Filthy from a century of industrial waste and sewage, the river fire of 1969 was the catalyst for the nation’s Clean Water Act.
Call me crazy, but there is an immense disconnect in my mind between glistening streets lined with Gilded Age mansions and a smoldering river of shit.
Poi Dog Pondering took the stage about the time we took our seats and ordered dinner. The theater was great and the concert was amazing. For a band he had never heard of, Angel was blown away, even though he was the youngest person in attendance—it was like we were center stage on a cruise ship and even I felt young. He commented on not only the vibe but also the lyrics of the songs which was quite astute. Frank Orrall is a gifted musician and entertainer, and I also look upon him as a brilliant poet. His words are truly worthy of song. Poi Dog Pondering started with four musicians on stage and the show and sound grew progressively to the encore’s climax of God’s Gallipoli which ignited the room. The concert was simply fabulous.
“For the benefit of all the people forever.” ~ Jeptha Wade
Not one Uber driver that I spoke with had ever been to the Cleveland Museum of Art.
Not one Uber driver that I spoke with had ever been to the Cleveland Museum of Art—few of the drivers had been to any of the attractions that I saw. But they certainly liked to brag about how well-endowed the CMA is. And yes, the Cleveland Museum has a super-endowment. Though not quite in the financial stratosphere like the MET or Houston Museum of Fine Art, the museum is indeed one of the wealthiest and as a benefit of having so much money for art in Cleveland the museum is free to all visitors! I was surprised at the number of Clevelanders who claimed to have never been—and even were surprised that a tourist would want to go. At least they admit they’ve been meaning to go, for the last 25 years.
Angel and I started with champagne in the contemporary Rafael Vinoly designed atrium that unites all old and new museum buildings. And then we toured the breathtaking collection. Art highlights for me undoubtedly include the monumental Cupid & Psyche by Jacques-Louis David, Water Lilies by Claude Monet, and The Thinker by Rodin—the Rodin in a perpetual state of disrepair since anarchists blew it up in turbulent 1970.
But the heart of the museum has to be the Armor Court, a collection ranging from knights to weaponry.
But the heart of the museum has to be the Armor Court, a collection ranging from knights to weaponry, which has changed very little since it opened in the 1920s. And let me tell you, those battleaxes look extremely painful. We were enthralled with the detail and craftsmanship.
We found a souvenir replica of The Thinker for Angel to take home.
After a productive visit to the gift shop (we found a souvenir replica of The Thinker for Angel to take home) we were just a jump away from Little Italy were we feasted on pasta and wine at Maxi’s Bistro—considered Little Italy’s finest and recommended by the docent in the gift shop. Food might be an art form elevated to the list of disciplines above!
Art, food, shopping, perfect weather, and a stunning young companion, such impeccable days are rare. At a little boutique called Moonstruck Vintage, a block up the hill, we discovered an American cut glass ornament with an elephant finial–the finial obviously a tribute to Jumbo. Designed to hold silver spoons it is a perfect souvenir–an elephant never forgets and I always will remember that day.
“If I ever saw myself saying I’m excited going to Cleveland, I’d punch myself in the face, because I’m lying.” –Ichiro Suzuki
We discovered a cut glass ornament with an elephant finial designed to hold silver spoons, a perfect souvenir: an elephant never forgets and I always will remember that day.
By the day I left I thought I might have to join the beggars along 4th Street. Trips always cost twice the budget. But this vacation was worth the expense.
Every bit of architecture in downtown Cleveland is special and spectacular, grand in the great Beaux Arts style that captains of industry loved so well. The foodies take pride in their restaurants, in both the interiors and the culinary specialties. The weather was perfect, the streets were clean, and I felt safe in all the places I visited, even when drunk as a skunk—though I actually did come face to face with a skunk one night at the door of a bar, when I was drunk, which made me feel not so safe.
Perhaps Aunt Barbara Belle was wrong because the Cleveland I found is no armpit. Or perhaps, since her time in Ohio in the 1970s, the environs have exponentially improved. Cleveland was one of the best vacations I ever had, and I can check it off my list. And, according to Tennessee Williams, now I’ve been everywhere.