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February 2012




New Year's Eve Gala, Columbus Renaissance Photo by Natalia Rivera/We Are Glitterati

SEND US YOUR SHOT! We invite you to submit your own vision of Columbus for the next Big Picture. Photos can be submitted digitally to at a resolution of 300 DPI and a size of at least 12x20 inches. Files can also be dropped off in person at the (614) Media Group offices (458 E Main St.). Deadline is February 15th.


614 Magazine


February 2012


614 Magazine


February 2012





Arts and Entertainment


Beyond the Blue 14

Red is too aggressive, and green is too alien, but according to performer Brian Tavener, it’s more than just cool blue hues that connects the Blue Man Group and their audiences.

Heart Full of Soul 18

Dayton-formed, Austin-approved country blues outfit Heartless Bastards wield a range of influences from T. Rex to Curtis Mayfield.

Gallery Space 28

Artist Amber Groome copes with her own bipolar disorder by creating emotive dolls that literally wear their hearts on the outside.

Valentine’s Day Guide 30

Marriage advice from Eddie George, matchmaking help for the LGBT community and humorous stories of romantic successes and failures – (614)’s V-Day Guide has a little something for everyone.

Food and Drink

At-Home Chef 40

DeNovo’s Robert Harrison serves up the three ‘S’s for Valentine’s Day: salty, sweet and savory.

Breakfast with the Pappas Family 42

None can hold a hash brown to the Pappas family, who is responsible for serving up tasty meals at three different Columbus establishments.

City Life

Bears, Malaria and The Sound of War 48

(614)’s Robert Paschen take us through the founding and early days of Columbus – a time as pivotal and exciting as it was dangerous. If you like mint juleps and bears, this one’s for you.

Cover Story: Columbus: 2212 54

It’s always amusing to look back and see the differences between today and yesterday, but what’s more exciting than speculating about the future? (614)’s David S. Lewis embodies Marty McFly and Ernie Hemingway all at once for this month’s cover story, a fun fictional account of our fair city in the year of its quadrennial.

Fatal Femmes 72

Even after a photoshoot where they could barely stand next to each other without balling a fist, world-class MMA fighters Ronda Rousey and Miesha Tate still have fighting words for their March 3rd Columbus clash.

PowerSuit 78

Rowe Boutique’s Maren Roth was destined to work in the fashion industry ever since she put on pearls to see Cats at age five.

100 years of hogs Columbus’ A.D. Farrow Co., the oldest Harley Davidson dealer in North America, rings in a century of bad-assery.

Fashion: Dapper Du Jour 80

Keep your look Mad Men and modern all at once with this month’s vintage shoot at Third and Hollywood.

Parting Shot 86

(614) Humanities Desk Editor Mark J. Lucas offers us an abridged history of Columbus’ most forgotten enclave of pioneers: the hipsters.



614 Magazine


February 2012


Knob Knob Creek Creek Single Single Barrel Barrel Reserve Reserve is carefully is carefully hand-selected, hand-selected, barrel-by-barrel, barrel-by-barrel, to bring to bring youyou a a robust, robust, mature mature flavor. flavor. Its full Its full bodied bodied withwith a smoky a smoky aroma aroma andand while while filled filled withwith nearnear barrel barrel strength strength heat, heat, it isitextraordinarily is extraordinarily smooth smooth andand nuanced. nuanced. It It hashas even even more more of the of the richrich wood wood andand vanilla vanilla notes notes thatthat helped helped make make Knob Knob Creek Creek thethe award-winning award-winning leader leader of the of the Super Super Premium Premium bourbon bourbon category. category. Knob Knob Creek Creek Single Single Barrel Barrel Reserve Reserve is long, is long, full full andand easy easy to sip to sip whether whether youyou choose choose to enjoy to enjoy it neat, it neat, on the on the rocks rocks or cut or cut withwith distilled distilled water. water. OhioOhio Representative Representative 651-D 651-D Lakeview Lakeview Plaza Plaza Blvd. Blvd. Worthington, Worthington, OH OH 43085 43085 (614)(614) 885-7676 885-7676


(614) M A G A Z I N E™

Publisher Wayne T. Lewis

Editor-in-Chief Travis Hoewischer Assistant Editor Abigail Hartung Photo Editor Chris Casella Dining Editor Kimberly Stolz Humanities Desk Mark J. Lucas

The Tree Bar, October 2011


istant memories often acquire a certain dreamlike quality, vague visions that might possess familiar scenes or characters, but lack the keystone locking in the concrete. For example, the clipping above, taken from the May 19th, 1989 edition of the Sidney Daily News, of then Ohio Governor Richard Celeste, after spending the night at my house during a leg of his “Capital for a Day” re-election campaign. I discovered it last month in a withered shopping bag from a long-gone department store, the most exciting piece of content in a box my mom asked me to reclaim, a mixed bag containing mostly faded love notes and loose varsity letters. My specific memory of this event, outside of those delicious cinnamon rolls you see in front of me, is predictably hazy. Now, I see how cool it is for the most influential man in my state to swing by for a sleepover. Then, however, at nine years old, I can remember mostly being stumped as to why a sharp-dressed man in suspenders was posing for photo ops on the corduroy couch my brother once unceremoniously vomited on. I’ve seen this photo several times over the course of my life, but it’s serendipitous that I would find it now, in the same month we begin to celebrate the city’s bicentennial. This is one of the first pieces of my own personal history with a direct connection to Columbus. A year later, the Guv invited my family to a Fourth of July party at the Mansion, something, as corny as it sounds, I think about whenever I drive through Bexley. More than two decades and several politicians later, I can recall more details as I come in closer proximity to the ornate backyard. I’m fascinated by the overlapping nature of our past and present. It took dozens of drives down Olentangy River Road before I realized that I had been there before. They buried my greatgrandmother there, I remembered with oddly instantaneous clarity, recalling fully for the first time peering out from the procession at the cemetery as a very young child. The drive to my apartment a few miles away always carried a different meaning for me after that. Now, Columbus is home, so the visions of the city I visited as a child, and the city I relocated to as a teenager have mostly reconciled themselves as one contiguous experience. But, still that dreamlike sensation returns occasionally, especially now, as we begin to look back on our past. I have new memories and experiences and settings to merge with those of the last two centuries. Last summer, just miles from Wolf Ridge and the location of our original capital, where William Henry Harrison’s troops set up camp, and malaria emerged from the swamps to decimate our infant city, I went to a Sadie Hawkins Dance in an art warehouse (400 West Rich), that used to be one of the largest drinking fountain manufacturers in the Midwest. Even my tangential connections to the city’s history are infinitely fascinating to me. Until now, I wouldn’t have even thought about the kind of connection we can forge by printing this magazine every month. Our hope is that you take it home and put in on your coffee table – but, if someone decides to slip a (614) into an old plastic bag and tuck it away for later – I’d love to think we could all be a part of the city’s future.

! {{Travis! Cease your babbling … are you ! This is David S. Lewis – I ain’t dead, receiving this transmission? and I ain't ! Turn on your damn machinery … I’ve got a in space, neither! heater of to ! send ya. I know I missed my deadline by two ce a cover story and the pe nturies, bu ! You’re ople of Columbus need hipped … where shall t you I place it? gonna w ! everyone feeli ant it to be your main attraction this month, wha

Travis Hoewischer, Editor-in-Chief



t with ng all bicentenial l-y. Around page 54, as I recall?}}

614 Magazine

Fashion Team Erika Dellatorre Erica Zurmehly Contributing Writers Kelly Laine Abrams Tara Brewster V.R. Bryant Steve Croyle Nick Dekker David S. Lewis Erin Norris Robert Paschen Adam Scoppa Scott Woods Contributing Photographers Megan Leigh Barnard Adam Lowe Natalia Rivera Advertising Director Meggin Weimerskirch Director of Corporate Accounts Chad P. Frye Account Executive Michael Riches Lead Designer Laura J. Sanders Layout & Design Mike Booher Doug Mayfield Contributing Illustrator Julian Dassai Director of Operations Lindsay Arnett Marketing Director Lauren Johnson Circulation Manager Steve Landes

(614) Magazine 458 E Main St. Columbus, OH 43215 Office: (614) 488-4400 Fax: (614) 488-4402 Email submissions to:

February 2012


©Copyright 2011 by Lewis & Clark Media LLC. Reproduction of any content, in whole or in part, without written consent of publisher is strictly prohibited. 614 Magazine is not responsible for return of unsolicited materials, manuscripts or photographs. “614 Magazine” is a registered Trademark of Lewis & Clark Media, LLC

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February 2012




stage – who is me – out in society, because it’s interesting how much that breaks down a societal wall between people. Just blue paint and a costume and anonymity. Yet, out in our regular society, there’s a front. There’s something standing between us. It’s interesting, sometimes, but for the most part, I love the anonymity. Do you guys wash the makeup off right away, or do you have fun with it for a little while after performances? We have a meet and greet after the show. There have been events where we’ve done outside appearances or things outside the show. I remember one time in Philadelphia, I was outside at a news station, and after the performance, the whole company thought, “Hey, the Rocky stairs are in this city. We need to go see the Rocky stairs!” In costume, with everybody in the whole crew, we go to the Rocky stairs in our van. There were some tourists hanging out taking pictures and we’re on the Rocky stairs. It was just such a great, spontaneous moment. You can take the characters out into the world, and people can take pictures, and everyone recognizes us. You can take it out randomly, and people don’t even suspect it, and then all of a sudden, they’re tweeting that they saw us.

“Red is a bit menacing. Green is alien. Pink is a little too effeminate. Any color you can add an analysis to, but blue doesn’t have that. I like to think of it as us living on a blue planet.”

Beyond the Blue Blue Man Group comes to the Palace Theatre

By Mark J. Lucas


here’s hardly a person in the United States who doesn’t recognize the Blue Men. They’re the trio of humanoid explorers from the Intel commercials, Broadway and touring shows (with the inquisitive and sometimes off-putting stares) who love to settle up on some PVC pipe and lay down the beats. Very few people, however, know exactly who they are. To find out what’s behind the blue paint, (614) talked with Brian Tavener, who plays one of the Blue Men in the North American Tour, which will be taking over the Palace Theatre this month – and hopefully not leaving behind too many blue stains.

What qualifications does one need to be a Blue Man? I mean, where did they even start? Does the music or acting come first? It’s different for different people. I know some people that come from an acting background as prestigious as Juilliard and also there’s people like me, who definitely come from a musical background. For someone like me, it’s less of a trained musical background. I played in a band for five years, and I taught myself a lot of different instruments and had been playing them for quite a long time. I was lucky enough to have had some acting experience in college. I kind of did both and I wanted to combine them, and this is the perfect outlet for that – to act and perform music.

So who is Blue Man? What’s he all about? The best way to describe the character is every audience member we perform for, before people knew how to do things, or someone told them how to do something. They’re basically an innocent, shamanistic . . . there’s a spirit involved. You’re sending a spiritual force into the audience every night – obviously tribal, because of the percussion. ‘Scientist’ is my favorite term to use, because of the analysis and the inquisitiveness and the wonder. I think you’re a mad scientist percussionist that’s in this world and that’s trying to just analyze every single thing around you, and figure out what these things are and who these people are, and try to find a connection between everything that’s in front of us, and move on to the next world. It’s basically a humanoid, devoid of any societal convention or roles, really.

What’s the audition like? Were there just a bunch of plumbing fixtures laying around and they asked you to play them a tune? The audition is interesting. The main thing is to find out whether the person auditioning has a care for changing people and working with the audience, someone that has an inquisitive nature to them. At Blue Man, we like to call it the “eye twinkle.” When you’re charged about anything on the inside – anything you’re creating in your brain – when that charge is there, it’s an interesting quality inside. It’s not like you glaze over and memorize lines. It’s a genuine, “Wow, where did that person grow up?” It’s really a mirror for who you’re performing for, so the main part of the audition, that’s what they’re looking for.

Exactly how many Blue Men are there? There’s probably about 70 to 80 active performers right now. I know there are well over 100 that could do the show. For one show, there’s three Blue Men: Right, Left and Center, every night, and four band members. I have been performing as Right, but eventually I’ll learn some Left, and then probably some Center. Some guys do all three roles, and I have performed all three roles in Boston. On the tour, though, I’ve been playing Right. He’s the fun guy. He’s the dog on the leash – he’s the one that wants to get out into the audience the most, I feel like. It’s like we’re dogs on a hunting mission. We’re one brain that can operate as three different bodies, so the challenge is to maintain an identity through the role you’re playing, but also stay within the confines of the one brain that we operate with.

Does the anonymity get to you? You perform all over the place, and no one knows what you really look like. I love it. I absolutely love it. We say there’s a superhero quality to the character. Hero, innocent, scientist, shaman . . . there’s all these words I can throw out. The hero part is fun for that reason. You do kind of feel like, sometimes, that you’re Clark Kent. That you’ve gone and performed this extravagant show that you can tell has changed someone, and you’ve even had an experience with that person, in particular, right in front of them. Just made eye contact and had a moment, and I’ll leave the show and go out to get a bite to eat, and see that person right next to me, and make eye contact, and they think I’m a weirdo. The thing that’s tough is that I wish I could be a Blue Man more. I wish I could be the person I am on


614 Magazine


February 2012


What exactly is involved with becoming a Blue Man every night? We usually allow an hour to get ready. We have a sound check, and we start getting ready. We put on a latex bald cap, and then we put on this blue grease paint that’s specially made for the show. We just lather that all over our face and eyes and necks and then we’re blue men. It’s pretty regular to miss some when we’re taking it off, too. I actually don’t even notice. That’s definitely a side effect of the show. It’s like that scene in Arrested Development, with the blue all over the walls. People always ask about that. It’s pretty true. I do not wear white to work


Do you think David Cross would make the cut as a Blue Man? I definitely think David Cross would make the cut. I hear Arrested Development is coming back, and that might be an episode that they may want to revisit. That’s something I talk about with the guys. We try to figure out who would be the best Blue Man. Chevy Chase or Eddie Murphy? I wanna see Eddie Murphy as a Blue Man. They would both kill. They need to be doing this. At some point, you have to have broken character, right? It’s such a special experience, and I just eat up the opportunity to be performing every night. One moment that stands out, because it was so bizarre . . . this woman was so innocent and funny . . . I rarely break from stage. I try not to laugh. I don’t think I laughed out loud, but I could have. We entered the audience to make a connection happen, and the first person I see is this woman in the middle of the audience, and she’s got a monkey puppet on her hand. She’s just waving this puppet and she’s talking with it, and looking at me with it. She looked at me, she looked at the puppet . . . I don’t know why she had it there. I just couldn’t believe what was happening. I thought I was imagining it, at one point. So I went right up to the puppet, and people were loving it. Everyone was sharing in it. “Who is this woman, and why does she have a monkey puppet – what am I watching?” and everyone else is like, “Is this guy in blue paint interacting with a monkey puppet?” Half the show, people had to be wondering about that.

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I’ve gotta ask . . . why blue? It’s just kind of inviting. Red is a bit menacing. Green is alien. Pink is a little too effeminate. Any color you can add an analysis to, but blue doesn’t have that. I like to think of it as us living on a blue planet. There’s a little bit of green, but again, you’ve got to stay away from that, especially now. We don’t want to seem like we’re a green movement theatrical group.

Find us on...

Blue Man Group will be performing at the Palace Theatre February 7th through 12th. Tickets start around $30 and are available online. For more information or to purchase tickets, visit

614 Magazine


February 2012

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local events

FEBRUARY Pencil these dates in

February 7


– By V.R. Bryant






February 9 – 12

February 17

Stadium Virginium II: Slippery When West

Time: Thursday & Friday 8 p.m., Saturday 6 p.m. & 10 p.m. and Sunday 8 p.m. Admission: $12 single ticket, $50 table of four Location: Axis Nightclub Web: Virginia West, female illusionist (drag queen) and “mother” of recent (614) cover girl Nina West, will take you back to the laser-lit heaven of concerts made famous by bands like Queen, Boston, Styx, Foreigner, Kiss, Heart, REO Speedwagon, Def Leppard, Prince, Michael Jackson, Madonna, Motley Crue and Bon Jovi. Join Virginia and her “gals” as they celebrate classic rock and hair bands from the ’70s and ’80s.




Stupid Cupid: The ALT-Anti-Valentine’s Day Party

Time: 8 p.m. – 1 a.m. Admission: $20 Location: Feverhead Web: Sick of dinner and the same old box of chocolates? The Feverhead creative space is hosting a different kind of dinner party for people looking to mix up the Hallmark holiday a little. On the docket is a homemade meal, gallery installations, visual art displays, a piñata bash (of all things), a dance party courtesy of Total Foxx and, of course, libations.

February 10



February 24

Time: 5 – 7 p.m. Admission: $10 Location: Wyandotte Winery Web: The antidote to a cold Ohio night: a bowl of soul-warming stew, a hearty hunk of bread, and a glass of wine. The only thing better is not having to make it yourself. Tuesday evenings, head to Wyandotte Winery – located on the east side of town near Blendon Woods Park – for a cozy crock pot dinner with your wine of choice for just $10. Whether it’s date night or just a bite to eat with colleagues after work, it’s hard to argue with hot soup and wine.

9 11

Get Crocked

February 11

The Bicentennial Birthday: A Celebration of the Centuries

Time: 6 – 11:30 p.m. Admission: $125 and up Location: Greater Columbus Convention Center Web: You might say it only comes once every 200 years – really, a bicentennial only comes once. Period. That’s right, our fair city is 200 years old, and this is the official party. Tickets will set you back a few bills, but this five-and-a-half hour soiree in the Convention Center’s Battelle Grand Ballroom will be well worth the charge. Promises of gourmet hors d’oeuvres, a speech from the mayor, live performances by Conspiracy and Shadowbox, and a “surprise celebration presentation” should entice Columbus’ finest for this momentous occasion.


CMA Game Show

Time: 8 – 10 p.m. Admission: $10, members $5 Location: Columbus Museum of Art Web: Time to get goofy! The Columbus Museum of Art is gearing up for its fourth Game Show, a live event in the spirit of the zany game and variety programs of the 1970s. There are contests, costumes and cut-ups galore – guests are encouraged to bring a date to share in the reception (complete with snacks and a cash bar) and to be prepared to potentially get selected to go on stage as a contestant. February 18


Polar Plunge

Time: 10:30 a.m. – 4 p.m. Admission: $10 Zoo admission plus a “bear” minimum of $75 funds raised Location: Columbus Zoo and Aquarium Web: Celebrating its 10th year as a Special Olympics benefit, the Polar Plunge is exactly that: participants will take a plunge into a pool in the dead of winter a few steps from actual polar bears. The Post Plunge Party will warm you back up with a cash bar and nibbles. Things get really crazy (and wet) when plungers compete in the costume contest by dressing up and then jumping in. Register online, create your own fundraising page and brace yourself.


The Wedding Experience Bridal Event

Time: 6:30 p.m. Admission: $15 – $25 Location: The Westin Columbus and Ohio Statehouse Web: Spring will soon be sprung, and the wedding season will soon have begun. Planning a wedding can be a major undertaking, so get a head start at the Wedding Experience Bridal Event. Apart from access to vendors such as hair-stylists and florists, attendees can sample gourmet food and signature cocktails and get down with potential DJs as well. Couples in attendance will even have the opportunity to be taxied between two venues by transportation companies offering limousine and party bus services. Register before February 21st to save $10 per ticket.

Feb. 2-5

John moRgan the Ragin cajun!

Feb. 9-12

DoV DaViDoff

From chelsea lately

February 26


19th Annual Bird Fair

Time: 10 a.m. – 4 p.m. Admission: $4 Location: Ohio Expo Center Web: Bird enthusiasts unite! At the 19th Annual Bird Fair hosted by the Ohio Expo Center, owners, breeders, and vendors will congregate on Sunday the 26th to celebrate everything ornithological. Also in attendance will be a variety of birds from all across the country, so there’s sure to be plenty of chatter. For just four dollars, you get admission to the six-hour show and access to hourly raffles. Polly want a ticket?

Feb. 16-18

Dom iRReRa

From the big lebowski Special engagement

Feb. 19

DaVe attell

From insomniac with Dave Attell

February 27


Special engagement

Playing For Change

Time: 7:30 p.m. Admission: $25 – $35 Location: Lincoln Theatre Web: The historic Lincoln Theatre, a landmark of the King-Lincoln District since 1928, will be hosting Grammy Award-winning producer Mark Johnson’s project Playing For Change. The moving musical performance is the convergence of an incredible array of street musicians displaying not only unique talent but also inspirational messages of community and hope. The assemblage has wowed audiences at the famed SXSW music festival and even cracked the Billboard Top 10. Need more convincing? Check out for samples of this amazing music.

Feb. 20 & 21

Jim bReueR From snl

Fe. 23-26

Jake Johannsen

From hbo’s one night stand

All Acts subject to chAnge

Visit us on the web visit us on

145 easton town center columbus, oh 43219

ReseRVations aRe a must!

614-471-(joke) 5653 (16)

614 Magazine


February 2012


614 Magazine


February 2012




Full of

By Adam Scoppa


The Heartless Bastards defy their moniker with adoration-worthy tunes

Pizza is our life!


the Bastards’ original 2003 demo. With the new, old lineup in place, the reconstituted rika Wennerstrom gets a lot of praise (and deservedly so) for her voice: earthy, Heartless Bastards developed Arrow by revisiting the artists that inspired them to perform earnest and gravelly-sweet in a way that’s hard to define. When she belts it out, as a band in the first place. her voice can make your hair stand on end, especially when paired with the thick, “I find that most of my biggest influences musically, and especially on this album, rustic guitar riffs she is so capable of deploying. are from bands and artists that I’ve listened to for a long time,” Wennerstrom said. “As But over the phone from Austin, Texas, where Wennerstrom now calls home, the an artist, it’s always the biggest challenge to get your vision where it’s trying to go. It’s Heartless Bastards’ frontwoman has the sound of giddy relief in her voice. She had just been a bit of a process for me over the years to do that, and I feel this is the most fully narrowly avoided locking her band’s equipment inside the trailer. Chuckles punctuate realized album that I have. It’s the closest to, if not exactly, where I was trying to go. And her southern-by-way-of-Midwest inflection. if something isn’t exactly where I was trying to “I don’t think I have a southern accent, go, I’m happy with where it went.” I think I just talk lazy sometimes,” she clarified. She sites sources of inspiration ranging “I feel this is the most fully realized album that I She and her band are gearing up for a from T. Rex (“Parted Ways”) to Curtis Mayfield tour in support of Arrow, their fourth full(“Only For You”) to spaghetti western soundhave. It’s the closest to, if not exactly, where I was length produced by Spoon drummer Jim tracks, the latter owing to driving restlessly under trying to go. And if something isn’t exactly where I Eno. Forming the group in 2003 in Dayton, the huge open skies of rural Texas. Wennerstrom and the band immediately had “I was having a bit of trouble trying to focus was trying to go, I’m happy with where it went.” a signature sound: raw, rootsy Americana, and sit down and finish my ideas,” Wennerstrom heavy but tender, anchored by Wennerstrom’s said. “I don’t know if ADD is the right word . . . aforementioned tough-as-nails vocals. Rarely but sometimes I have to force myself to sit down experimenting with genre touchstones hasn’t stopped the band from earning critical and say, ‘Ok, you’re gonna write!’ So I ended up taking some road trips. I got inspired to acclaim for their last three straight releases. Rather, the Bastards wring merit out of write ‘The Arrow Killed the Beast’ out there, listening to Ennio Morricone a lot.” every tried-and-true angle possible. They bend garage-rock crunch, glam bombast and a The Heartless Bastards aim to level The Basement this month, two days after Arrow is heapin’ helpin’ of country-fried soul to their own will. It’s as satisfying as comfort food released. Wennerstrom craves a busy lifestyle, so she’s eager to get back on the road. and intoxicating as comfort booze. “I’ve wanted to play music since I was old enough to think about doing anything,” she In 2007, Wennerstrom moved to Austin to recalibrate, and her backing band was said. “At some point after the second album, I was able to live off of doing what I love to do, left behind. which is a really special thing when it comes to art. But it was never a huge overnight success “Honestly, I was in a relationship for 10 years and we split up,” she said. “We had and I’m not like rich or anything, which I’m perfectly okay with. And I feel like it’s allowed all the same friends, and I just thought it would be easier to sort of go through that in a me to look at things in a humble way, and appreciate when things do go well.” different city for both of us.” The album that followed, The Mountain, employed studio musicians. For touring The Heartless Bastards will take the stage at The Basement at 8 p.m. on February 16th. purposes, Wennerstrom reunited with Dave Colvin and Jesse Ebagh, who played on For more on the band, or to buy tickets, visit

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live music



– By Don Allred

The gentle intensity of gospelbased South African a cappella choir Ladysmith Black Mambazo has pop appeal too: 2011’s Songs From A Zulu Farm even playfully transforms “Old McDonald.” 2012’s Ladysmith Black Mambazo and Friends includes “Diamonds On the Soles of Her Shoes,” co-written and performed again with Paul Simon, whose 1986 Graceland featured LBM. The new album also ranges from “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door,” with Dolly Parton, to “Hello My Baby,” with the jaunty harmonies of Zap Mama, plus DJ mixes. Yet live, especially, they don’t require assistance to levitate and dance with us. 02/08 @ The Southern Theatre, 21 E Main St. 8 p.m.



Ladysmith Black Mambazo



Craig Finn

“Dude with the long fingernails, I know he’ll be good to you/I seen him shave up at the library/ And sleep behind the caribou.” On his solo debut, Clear Heart Full Eyes, The Hold Steady’s Craig Finn temporarily trades THS’s ornate neo-classic rock chariot for his Austin session group’s alone-together cowbell groove, a bracing back room echo of THS tourmates Drive-By Truckers. Finn’s currently touring quartet includes the new album’s incisive, evocative regular and steel guitarist, Ricky Ray Jackson. Attentive, sportive bassist Alex Livingstone previously played Columbus with Tim Easton’s Freelan Barons. 02/09 @ The Basement, 405 Neil Ave. 7 p.m.


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614 Magazine


February 2012



Broken Hearts/ Broken Strings

Headliners Earwig are a songcentered power trio, whose fans recently voted for “Dinosaur Song” to top tonight’s four-album spanning set list: “We were dinosaurs/With little arms/Long tails and big, big scales/You were trying to hold my hand/I dream sweet monster dreams.” With Bush League All-Stars’ Jesse Faller on keyboards, Earwig will also conduct a “Love Note Reading” (comedy/art bit). They host catchy, combustible alt rockers Yellow Light Maybe and The Slang, Teen Fiction’s one-man electronic dance pop mythology, Cleveland’s irrepressible Mind Fish, Sex Kitten Purrlesque and other burlesque artists. 02/10 @ Outland Live, 95 Liberty St. 7 p.m.


The DewDroppers Sweetheart Dance

The Columbus-based DewDroppers label their sparkling ballroom wizard’s brew as swang music. Ingredients: “1920sto-’50s, with a contemporary tweak.” This release party’s new songs are included in a comfortably roomy set, presented by Adam Nedrow (AKA Raggedy Dandy) on drums and vibraphone, Counterfeit Madison’s keys, guitarist Lonesome Joe Gilliland, and bassist Michael Kohn (now full-time, but too new for a nickname). Party favors and flavors will appear. So will area trio Way Yes, whose own newly released tunes conspire with older, equally fun ones, to lure moody lyrics through tropical-tronic soundscapes and guitar mischief. 02/10 @ 400, 400 W Rich St. 9 p.m.


Bloody Valentine Night: A Darker Side of Love

With the ideal of each band performing only one classic cover, Love Culture has summoned fellow seekers of new allure in shoegaze, and other talismanic traces of true romance. The Receiver’s recontextualized, stellar prog and The Loyal Divide’s morphing, party-mask electronica will encounter Bloody Knives and Dead Leaf Echo, channeling industrial bass and ethereal harmonies respectively. Dark pop’s Wolf Ram Heart aim “beyond self-imposed structures of bottomless inspirational economy.” Amen! In celebration of love’s deep heart, attendees will receive black flowers (real ones). DJs Scott Niemet, Lydia Beatz and Walleye will re-mix appropriate potions. 02/11 @ Ace Of Cups, 2619 N High St. 7 p.m.


Sharon Van Etten/ Shearwater

As the spotlight heats up, singer/ songwriter Sharon Van Etten extends her balancing act of thrills, chills and skills, via new album Tramp ‘s luminous psychpop-folk production by The National’s Aaron Desser. Van Etten also savors and shares discreetly juicy details and ever budding, hard-earned wisdom. With her touring band, now including chamberrocking singer/multi-instrumentalist Heather Woods Broderick, Van Etten’s live adventures continue. Ditto opening act Shearwater, as the dynamic art rockers sail through the strata of their completed Island Arc trilogy, to the vivid velocity of 2012’s truthfully titled Animal Joy. 02/14 @ Wexner Center Performance Space, 1871 N High St. 9 p.m.

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Mojoflo/Jared Mahone/DJ Drastic

Columbus convenes a bon voyage party for festive septet Mojoflo, who begin their tour in New Orleans, just in time for Mardi Gras. Vocalist Amber Knicole holds forth with tingling-to-scorching orchestrations inspired by James Brown, Motown, hip-hop and reggae. Compatibly flexible inflections are filtered through Jared Mahone’s crossover-genre demos, currently sparking a Mayer Hawthorneto-yacht rock feel. Mahone and crew are working on a “crowd-focused” album, with input from fans demanding JM’s trademark live energy. DJ Drastic cuts things up with observant choices, a monster record collection and 20 year’s experience. 02/17 @ Skully’s, 1151 N High St. 9 p.m.


Tim Easton/You’re So Bossy

Columbus-launched, globetrotting singer/songwriter Tim Easton’s nomadic confidence infuses the gritty currents of his tuneful speculations. You may not recognize where “Nobody Plays Piano in Athens, GA” is taking you, but you’ll know when you get there. The instrumentally versatile Easton is accompanied tonight by drummer Sam Brown. The uncommon denominator of Columbus legends Gaunt, New Bomb Turks and The Sun, Brown also drives power-pop openers You’re So Bossy. YSB tends to include the likes of bassist Phil Park, who was one of the Haynes Boys, as was Easton. The family tree’s still smoking. 02/18 @ Rumba Café, 2507 Summit St. 10 p.m.


The Klezmatics

The Klezmatics revive and personalize Yiddish klezmer’s soulfully rowdy, improvisational experience. Their voices, strings, brass, reeds, keyboards and percussion also roll out the polka, ska and other dances. 2006’s Grammy-winning Wonder Wheel provides revelatory music for previously unheard Woody Guthrie lyrics. On 2011’s Live At Town Hall, they’re equally powerful in the “kosher gospel” of African American Jewish guest singer Joshua Nelson, and while steadily raising the roof with, “I ain’t afraid/Of your Bible/Of your Torah/Of your Quran/I’m afraid of what you do in the name of your God.” 02/23 @ The Lincoln Theatre, 769 E Long St. 8 p.m.

February 2012



This is

WCBE $1,499,988.41.

Richelle Antczak McCuen read back WCBE’s operating budget, one digit at a time – commas included. “We’re very used to taking it down to the penny,” she said. McCuen, the Columbus public station’s Director of Membership, Web Administrator and part-time announcer, also had some other figures down to the penny. How about $447,265.16 for programming or $829,650.90 for personnel? Public radio stations don’t just magically make their way over the airwaves; it takes a lot of budgeting to keep it all going. When NPR says it’s supported by member stations, that means the stations have to pay NPR for the programming and those fees increase as the station’s ratings improve. Public funding? Well, the Corporation for Public Broadcasting does lend support to public stations such as WCBE, but that’s rarely more than 10 percent of the




A few highlights in WCBE’s 55 years

1956 – At 9:15 a.m. on September 26th, WCBE-FM signs on the air at 90.5 MHz.

1967 – WCBE evolves from a classroom-based station to a noncommercial, classical music station.

1970 – WCBE becomes a charter member station of National Public Radio (NPR).

budget and CPB’s resources are limited. Most of the money a public radio station deat the end of the fiscal year – it’s at any moment. If we go in the red, it’s lights out. That’s pends on for survival actually comes from listeners. when you see us doing special fundraisers.” McCuen is tasked with generating about half of WCBE's lofty operating figure through WCBE barely made it that first year, finishing just $1,000 over that dreaded red line. Ever philanthropic support and in order to entice donations, she’s got all of $6,000 to work with. That since then, however, the station has increased that margin. They actually cleared $150,000 doesn’t buy many t-shirts when you’re trying to raise three quarters of a million dollars. last year. That’s money the station can invest into new equipment, enhanced programming “We develop some unique partnerships within the community,” she noted, as she and various community projects. When you start thinking along those lines, you realize that discussed the art of operating on a shoestring. $150,000 really isn’t a lot of money. It’s nothing new for WCBE. Our jewel of a But the connection to the community is “If we go one penny in the red, it’s lights out. That’s what sets WCBE apart. There’s little turnover public radio station celebrated its 55th birthday last year and marked the occasion with a screenthis tiny staff of 11. WCBE’s least senior not at the end of the fiscal year – it’s at any moment.” in ing of the documentary This is WCBE at Shadmember has been with the station for five years owbox.  A second screening was held at Studio and when people actually do leave, it’s not long 35 in January and WCBE is currently working with Gateway and Drexel to set up adbefore they start looking for opportunities to return. ditional screenings this month and next (details can be found at, and a “We have a mission to enrich the community,” McCuen said. “We’re committed to DVD is also available). growing Columbus and we believe that’s why we’re here.” The film captures the rather fascinating history of a classroom radio station (the call McCuen stepped down from her music show to focus entirely on fundraising. That letters stand for Columbus Board of Education) that became a charter member of the focus runs after normal business hours and even into her vacation, where she insisted on NPR network in 1970. In 1990, WCBE boldly broke the public radio mold and ditched taking time away from her time away to send (614) promotional materials. the classical format in favor of Adult Album Alternative, providing WCBE with a re“It might sound a little dramatic, but I wouldn’t be able to live with the thought of missing markably diverse listener demographic. Sadly, FCC rules prohibit public stations from an opportunity,” she said, “and we all feel that way. Jim Coe (Underwriting and Business Develselling advertising, so WCBE can’t fully capitalize on that demographic. opment) only gives out his personal cell phone number because he doesn’t want to miss a call.” The Columbus Board of Education still holds the station’s license, although the staCoe echoed many of McCuen’s sentiments. “It’s a passion,” he said. “Nobody is in it tion has been on its own since 2005 when budgetary concerns put WCBE on the chopfor the money. We all see this as something that is bigger than ourselves.” ping block. Current GM Dan Muchalko was essentially hired to sundown the station, – Steve Croyle but after surveying the situation, he went back to the board with the proposition that the station be permitted to operate if it could sustain its own operations. WCBE got a Tune in at 90.5 FM or check out for details about reprieve, but only under the strictest conditions. upcoming documentary screenings and more. “If we go one penny in the red, it’s lights out,” McCuen explained. “Now that’s not

1972 – WCBE becomes the first school-system owned station in the U.S. – and non-commercial station in Columbus – to broadcast in stereo.

1990 – WCBE changes format from classical music to a Triple A (Adult Album Alternative) music format.

2000 – Online streaming of WCBE broadcasts become available.

2010 – WCBE celebrates the most successful fundraising year in station history, raising $720,000 in listener donations!

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NEXT SEMESTER STARTS JANUARY 30, 2012! Call Adult and Transfer Admission at (614) 823-1356 today! Or visit


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February 2012


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February 2012



Photo by Chris Casella


Co-presented by



You’ve found the perfect woman let us help you find the perfect ring

Follow along and interact with our design team at: RubensteinKiss

The Rubenstein Kiss by James Phillips

A combination of the Cold War and the McCarthy hearings sets a tone for betrayal in the United States. Inspired by the true story of Ethel and Julius Rosenberg, this powerful American premiere winds through the mysterious corridors of history to reveal the anguish of a family and their yearning for justice. When Jakob and Esther Rubenstein are punished for an act of industrial espionage, we are left to decide if they are guilty or the victims of zealots.

Engagement – Wedding – Anniversary

February 1–19, Studio Two, Riffe Center Located in the heart of the short north Support provided by

Season sponsor

| 1-800-745-3000 & outlets |

Catch Sundown at Ace of Cups on February 3rd and 18th. Check out for more.

Ohio Theatre Ticket Office | 614-469-0939 Groups: 614-719-6900 Preferred hotel

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Here Comes

The Sun

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February 14, 5:30 - 10pm $11 admission includes three wine and chocolate pairings. Additional pairings available for purchase. No reservations required.

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Webb moved to Columbus from New York two years ago to forge a new chapter in his life and his music. In Kansas City, Missouri, where he grew up, music more or less chose him. “My older brother had a guitar and it was just a natural thing,” the songwriter said. “I was into Van Halen and then got into punk rock. There wasn’t a whole lot of other options where I’m from.” Carving out most of the last decade as an established underground folkie with a psychedelic bent, Webb cut a few solo records and toured on his own while based out of the Big Apple. “I stayed really busy,” he said. “I played too much there. I got into this thing where I would accept any show. From 2000 to 2006, I was playing solo so I would play anywhere all the time. As a band came into play, I would be more selective with the shows because you don’t want to drag a bunch of people out to Café Wherever. I had a band, TK and The Visions, and toured quite a bit for like a year and a half. And then it was time to go.” “I was into underground Ohio rock since I was young, because a lot of awesome s**t happened here,” he continued. “I was curious about Ohio anyway. I came here and I hibernated for like a year, and then I met Dusty.” That would be Dusty White, a local music fixture who makes a living working at a used record store, running sound at various venues, and touring with Columbus noise-pop stalwarts Times New Viking as their in-house sound man. Recognizing each other as kindred spirits, Webb and White made quick work of getting a noise-bolstered folk-rock project called Sundown off the ground. “There’s like this weird symmetry in a lot of ways with the two of us, in that we grew up in the same sort of DIY world in the early- to mid-’90s, into the exact the same s**t,”

February 2012


said White. “About 2000 … what we were playing was in these different spheres and then it kind of figure eight-ed back around.” Webb approached White to oversee the recordings of songs he’d been working on. “He said, ‘I know a rhythm section, let’s get something together,’ explained Webb. “I was planning on just making another solo recording.” Sundown’s hazy, experimental sound is born out of an all-inclusive aesthetic that nods faithfully to decades of blues, country and folk traditions but refuses to dismiss contemporary notions. The idea was to meld Webb’s song craft with the dense, textured soundscapes and wall-of-smoke recording style White relishes. Taking a page out of country-rock pioneer Gram Parsons’ book, they appropriately dub it New Cosmic American Music.

“I’m not interested in doing something right now that’s purposefully regressive and pretends like the last 20 years never happened. I’m not a f**kin’ cowboy. I dropped out of art school twice. Cowboys don’t go to art school.” “I’m not interested in doing something right now that’s purposefully regressive and pretends like the last 20 years never happened,” said White. “I’m not a f**kin’ cowboy. I dropped out of art school twice. Cowboys don’t go to art school.” “Both of us are into guitar rock, from noisy to pretty,” said Webb. “But who isn’t, really? I can’t think of anyone I know or trust who isn’t. Except like old people. Like my grandma.” “Forming a retro rock band was not our desired M.O.,” he added. Releasing the songs in a retro format, however, is a different story. Mansion Burning, the ace six-song EP released on cassette last year, was the product of one day of recording and was mixed by White while on the road with TNV. The original 50-unit run is long gone, but Sundown is slated to re-release the tunes on vinyl via local label Spoonful Records in March. What became of the tapes? Webb offers a theory. “Those tapes are all in someone’s waterproof jam box in the shower somewhere.” – Adam Scoppa 614 Magazine


February 2012

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All About the Cash This isn’t your grandpa’s state lotto show

Friends stopping for sodas on their way to a middleschool graduation, Minneapolis, Minnesota, 1997. Photograph by Wing Young Huie.

SlEIght of Hand, Sharp of Wit

Your true colors have nothing to do with skin.


Exhibit at COSI January 28 – May 6, 2012

Local magician pulls national nomination out of his hat

Classic state lotto show turns 25 By Scott Woods


“When we brought Cash Explosion back (from a one-year hiatus as Make Me Famous, young woman outfitted in a neon-green t-shirt approaches Barry Riley in the Make Me Rich in 2006) . . . we made a number of changes . . . things that we felt would make wide hallway just outside the studio. the show have a larger appeal,” Riley said. “As the old cliche goes, ‘It’s not your grandfather’s “Can you help me?” the woman said, thrusting forward a solid, dark-green men’s Cash Explosion show.’ We’ve changed the set, the theme music, the hosts . . . just the pacing of dress shirt and an iron. From just a few feet away, I can see a surname displayed promithe show. There are a lot of things that are different from just five years ago.” nently on her shirt, as well as half a dozen Ohio Lottery scratch-off tickets safety-pinned On this Wednesday afternoon, the studio audience was packed with folks of all ages, all around her torso. “This shirt is for [my brother] – I need somewhere to iron it.” races and probably creeds, all cheering merrily as the warm-up comic, Dan Swartwout, The woman’s brother was in desperate need of a change of clothes, indeed. As Cash teases and pokes and passes out prizes for especially enthusiastic guests. Explosion’s returning champion, he had cleared a cool $105,000 at an earlier taping of “We wanted to create appeal. If you like a game show, we wanted you to be able to one of the nation’s last state lottery game shows. Now, five minutes before the start of the watch Cash Explosion. Many people associated it with, ‘That’s the show that grandma final shoot of the month, his sister wants to make sure he’s not wearing the same dress watches, or grandpa watches.’ That’s great; we love having that, but we also want to shirt and tie two shows in a row. have appeal for those who just click the TV on at 7:30 on a Saturday night and found “Sure sweetheart, let me help you,” said Riley, a shaved-bald, solidly built man of something of interest.” average height and above-average seriousness, who Viewers interested in winning large sums of serves as executive producer and brand manager of money will be especially excited for the show’s 25th “There’s a commonality to the show based on Cash Explosion for the Ohio Lottery Commission, anniversary plans, which begin in March and run which is celebrating its 25th year in 2012. The two for 25 weeks through August. the fact that these are real people with real run off to press the just-ripped-from-the-package Dubbed “Celebrating 25 Years of Winning in lives, and we don’t discriminate against anyone 25 Weeks,” the six-month stretch includes increasshirt as the pulsating rhythm of a deep baseline and prolonged flutters of excitable clapping roar es in prize money and the creation of a Super Show, for anything. It’s literally the luck of the draw.” in which contestants can win up to $250,000. Also through the open stage door behind them. With about a minute to spare, the newly wardrobed being planned is a fan appreciation day. “I can’t dichampion bolts onto the stage – heavy fold wrinkles and all – and is greeted by the frenvulge anything about that yet, but it’s going to be family friendly,” Riley said. zied crowd of more than 100, desperate to watch him vie for more. For Riley and his colleagues, increased ticket sales are great, and the success of the new “We’re the last man standing,” Riley told me before the shoot in a conference room at show is satisfying, but working for the Lottery Commission can have its inherent gifts. Mills James Productions in Hilliard, ticking off a list of other state lotto shows that have “These are everyday people on this show, unlike what you see on Jeopardy or Wheel of recently met their untimely demise. Fortune,” Riley said. “Those people have to have a certain skill set, or have a certain look It’s not like this one-of-a-kind Saturday evening television staple has always been or personality, or are willing to do crazy stuff, or whatever. When the people of Ohio on top of the world, however. When Riley joined the Ohio Lottery nearly six years ago, turn on Cash Explosion on a Saturday night, it could be you or me, or my brother. There’s sales of its No. 1 instant scratch-off ticket – which also serves as a TV show entry card for a commonality to the show based on the fact that these are real people with real lives, and some winners – had dipped to around 550,000 weekly, he said. Today, that number has we don’t discriminate against anyone for anything. It’s literally the luck of the draw.” crept up to 900,000, a clear sign that a more modern, revamped show has contributed “We had a contestant a few years ago, he and his wife were going into foreclosure: heavily to the ticket’s renewed popularity. they were about to lose their home. He happened to win, got in the championship game “We measure success with how many tickets we sell,” Riley said. “At the end of the – $50,000. And he cried like a baby. For me, it’s gratifying to know that this many people day, that’s what it comes down to.” are really and truly helped.” Heavily labeled as a game show that appealed almost solely to Ohio’s grandparent population, Riley and his production team, which includes producer Holly Berger, helped To become a contestant, you’ll need a winning instant lottery ticket, but to find out about to oversee a dramatic transformation that took into account every tiny detail of the show. watching Cash Explosion in person and more, visit


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February 2012


A Project of American Anthropological Association. Funded by Ford Foundation & National Science Foundation.


agic is a tricky business. To most, there are two kinds of magicians: the best one they’ve ever seen . . . or absolutely terrible. If a magician can get a laugh out of his audience, however, they’re given a pass for not making the Statue of Liberty cry tigers. For years, Hilliard’s own Michael Kent has grabbed the attention of college students all over the country with his hipper version of the traditionally kiddie/campy artform, and this year his talent has earned him a national nod with a nomination for Entertainer of the Year in Campus Activities Magazine. Harnessing both illusion and comedy is what has made Kent so well received. Think Gob Bluth without the dead doves and rainfall of pennies. “If I came out with fog machines and a glittery shirt on, people would probably just laugh,” Kent said. “I don’t have the look or the posture or the timing. Once I realized that comedy was my avenue for magic, that’s when it actually started making sense, because you run everything through that filter.” Kent tried his hand at stand-up in college, but the magic came first. “Ever since I was a little kid, I was trying to be David Copperfield,” Kent said. “A few people called me Magic Mike, and in college, that’s what people knew me as.” After graduation, burnt out on doing close-up magic for customers during several stints in the restaurant industry, and more than 300 gigs a year with very little to show for it, Kent broke down and took a job in marketing. “I got sick of it, but I got really good,” he said, adding that he almost had to face his calling reluctantly. “The defining moment was that I’d used up all my vacation time doing magic and I made more money with magic than at the marketing job. I thought, ‘S**t . . . I’m a magician.’” The nomination caps a solid year for Kent, but being a magician still brings with it some quirky circumstances. He usually has a small trick to do if someone asks for an example of his talent, yet he’s reluctant to tell his barbers what he does for a living. Once, airport security opened his luggage and found a rubber chicken. It’s the kind of thing that would end up in a comedy, and, of course, Kent has a appreciative place in his heart for the most famous modern magician: the aforementioned Bluth from Arrested Development. “It’s awesome. They’ve captured something that no one ever really acknowledges,” laughed Kent. “Magic has this stigma to it – the overly-dramatic magician takes himself too seriously. It was probably funnier to magicians, because we know so many people who are that character. There are so many magicians in so many small towns who take themselves way too seriously.” Besides the desire to entertain, Kent’s main goal is to not take himself too seriously. Even though he’s psyched about being tapped for a national award, he keeps a level head. “I have no idea who’s going to win. Everyone in that category has their own merit. Every one of us has a different audience. The politically correct answer is that I’m just happy to be nominated.”

Looking through the lens of history, science and personal experience, the RACE exhibit explores similarities and differences among people and explains the realities of race. Add your voice to the conversation that will bring our community closer together. Presenting Sponsor:

Media Partners:

Supporting Sponsor:


333 West Broad Street | Columbus, Ohio 43215 | 614.228.2674 |

An evening with Dr. Cornel West April 18, 2012, 6pm Lecture by renowned civil rights activist and author of Race Matters. Visit Made possible by Abercrombie & Fitch

– Mark J. Lucas



An Evening with Michael Kent will be held at Wild Goose Creative (2491 Summit St.) on February 18th at 8 p.m. For more dates and information, visit To find out more about the national nomination, visit

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COLLEGE February 2012



Groome with a VIEW


By Kimberly Stolz

Amber Groome’s work will be on display through February at the Lindsay Gallery (986 N High St.), alongside Morris Jackson. A reception will be held on February 3rd from 6 to 9 p.m.


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February 2012

Muse Gallery 188 E Whittier St. What is February without a little erotic art to get the Valentine juices . . . er, flowing? Muse Gallery’s Full Blown Romance exhibition this month will certainly rev up the amour engines. The show is divided into two sections, featuring erotic pieces on one side and romantic offerings on the other. Headlining the erotic section will be photographer Chas Ray Krider. The local lens man is known worldwide for his sexy Taschen tome Motel Fetish. Artists joining Krider include painter and sculpture David Hostetler, Rhett Lynch, Bob Coates and Manuela Holban. On the romantic side of the coin, look for work by Sol Halabi, Chad Awalt, Mario Madiai, Randall LaGro and Mark Yale Harris. To féte this annual celebration of sensual art, the gallery is hosting a glamorous reception on February 11th from 7 to 10 p.m. Attendees can rub elbows with artists Krider, Hostetler and Coates. Tickets cost $50 and include food and drink.

By Kimberly Stolz


he first time artist Amber Groome presented her creations to the public, she cried. Not from happiness, but from the fear of exposing herself to the world, of putting herself out there. “I remember peering around the corner because I hadn’t seen them hanging up yet and going, ‘Oh my gosh,’” she recalled, eyes wide with the memory. “It was just like . . . just to see people looking at them was too much for me, it was a different reality.” This was back in 2008 when Groome traveled with Lindsay Gallery owner Duff Lindsay to the annual Art Chicago event. Flash forward to 2012 and Groome is getting ready for a show at the Lindsay Gallery, as well as for a return to the New York Outsider Art Fair. Sitting in the light-filled Short North art haven, the red-haired artist looks over an array of her newer pieces and gently tucks lace into place and runs her hands over the figures. “Now, it’s becoming empowering, in a way,” she mused. “I’ve created this voice and this responsibility to communicate these things – it’s amazing to me.” Groome’s art, rows upon rows of tiny dolls that literally wear their hearts outside of their bodies, is such a personal expression of pain, sorrow and trauma that it literally took years for the artist to show the pieces to anyone but her close friends and family. Now, she is proud that her works evoke strong emotional results from others and can possibly serve as a catharsis for those in need. “They are so intimate, the symbolism of them that I carry, it’s revealing for people to see them,” she said. “They definitely bring up a lot of emotion.” Stuck through with pins, mouths gaping in blood red “O”s, the dolls reflect Groome’s travels through life with bipolar disorder as her constant companion. Navigating the world as a female with a mental illness informs Groome’s work through myriad allusions to medication, femininity and birth/ rebirth. While initially fearful about showing her work, she is not shy about discussing her struggles. “Mental illness is a reality, yet it has a stigma,” she sighed. “It’s terribly stigmatized; everybody deals with it, everybody has seen it in their families and it’s relevant to the human condition.” “It’s funny that it’s so taboo,” she continued. “And what is that doing for everybody? We should all be working together to get us all a little happiness and empowerment.” The dolls themselves grew out of Groome’s youthful sketches of similar images. “[The dolls] have always personified part of my identity,” she explained. “I guess I was always intrigued by them. I really like things that are uncanny, things that are familiar, but at the same time give you an uncertain feeling. Yeah, they’re creepy, but I like that. Dolls are really creepy. They’re inanimate, but have potential for being life-like.” Sculpted from polymer clay and baked off in an oven, the dolls are dressed in bits and pieces of ephemera that Groome picks up while canvassing local antique shops. Drawn to the mysterious narratives inherent in old treasures, the artist tends to romanticize and create her own visions for her unique finds. A chance discovery of an old printer’s box inspired her to show her dolls tucked into each nook of the wooden rectangle. “I just really fell in love with the box aesthetically,” she said. “I loved the idea of filling it obsessively with dolls, it became a ritualistic kind of thing. They’re more protected in these environments; it’s more intimate to have the boxes and be able to get up in there and look at them closely.” Viewers, especially women, have often connected with the dolls in their “Yeah, they’re creepy, but I like that.” wooden houses. Some have broke down in tears, while all are moved by the raw emotion on display. One woman bought a piece for herself, and then one for her daughter who had just been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. “That right there is my main motivation in a way, to move somebody that much,” Groome marveled. “That’s exactly what other women artists were doing for me – to see myself in somebody else’s work is all that I could ever hope for.” Another collector is the well-known doctor and social activist Patch Adams. He’s bought two of the 32-year-old artist’s works, believing that they can spark conversation among his patients and be an inspiration to others who are going through rough times. “Patch Adams, that was a big one for me,” she smiled. Now more at ease with having her creations out in the world, Groome is looking forward to her latest exhibit. “A funny story that I heard from one of the shows,” she recalled, “A particular collector, her and another female artist, were talking: ‘Oh they seem to be smiling a little bit, she must be happier this year,’” said Groome, a big smile on her face and not a tear in sight.


Full Blown Romance


ImageOHIO12 Fort Hayes Shot Tower Gallery 546 Jack Gibbs Blvd. For 12 years, Roy G. Biv has highlighted the breathtaking photographic/video talent that resides in our state. In order to accommodate the grand scale and undertaking of this annual show, the Short North Gallery collaborates with the Shot Tower Gallery on the Fort Hayes school campus. This year, the highly anticipated showcase has utilized the curatorial talents of Chris Stults, associate curator of Film/Video at the Wexner Center for the Arts. Treat yourself to a walk through the possibility of images, from up-to-the-minute digital work that embraces the full-force of technology to old school alternative processing like anthotypes (a method that uses photosensitive material from plants). It’s like getting a peek at the entire state’s talent in one place. The show runs through February 29th.

C-BUS ROCKS! A Bicentennial Exhibition CS Gallery 66 Parsons Ave. The artistic minds behind CS Gallery and CLOUDHAUS are celebrating the Bicentennial in their own way this month as the walls of the Olde Towne East gallery scream with C-bus pride. All the pieces, in some way, celebrate our city and those who love to live and create within its environs. The opening reception will be held on February 18th from 8 to 11 p.m. This event also serves as the second anniversary bash for the CLOUDHAUS art collective.

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Photos by Megan Leigh Barnard


614 Magazine


February 2012





Romancing Y for Real Eddie and Tamara George guide couples to success in their new book

ou know how when you see a happy couple walking hand-in-hand, murmuring sweet nothings, you want to look away, but just can’t, because that’s the dream? Believe it or not, talking on the phone with two people who are madly in love elicits the same feeling. There are flirty laughs and kissing noises and it’s just the sweetest thing – especially when that couple is former Ohio State superstar Eddie George and his wife, platinum recording artist Tamara. On the phone from their home base in Nashville, the Georges spoke of their new book and, in honor of Valentine’s Day, recalled their favorite romantic moments. The public tends to think that beautiful people live life in the smooth lane, their cruise control powered by fame, money and outright gorgeousness. Tamara (Taj) and Eddie George, however, are quick to refute such fantasies. “We are an average couple with the normal issues,” said Taj. “There were times we wanted to give up, adverse times,” added George. “That’s where the true work comes in . . . we are constantly growing together.” The couple’s success inspired them to write Married for Real, a book that “breaks the mold of all relationship books,” according to Taj. The two believe in the Power of One. “That’s when two people are putting aside all outside issues and creating a union that is so fused that you can’t recognize them outside of each other,” explained Taj. Married for Real outlines six lessons to merge two ‘me’s into one unbreakable ‘we.’ Through personal stories of trials and triumphs, the book is remarkably honest. “We have a great story,” said Taj. “If we can help people, that is just icing on the cake.”

“There were times we wanted to give up, adverse times. That’s where the true work comes in . . . we are constantly growing together.” One of the great romantic moments in the couple’s narrative is when George popped the question. At the time, Taj was unsure of where the relationship was going. “I was thinking that he wasn’t serious,” she recalled. “Then he surprised me on the Brooklyn Bridge . . . I had no clue. He gave me a puppy and a ring, and had flown in my best friend and my family. I thought he was walking away from me, but he was walking to me.” For George, one of the most romantic things about his wife is the way she listens to him. “A long time ago, I told her that I always wanted to be a club DJ, but when I was young, my mom couldn’t afford the equipment,” he said. “On my 27th birthday, she surprised me with two turntables, an amp, and 27 records for my first set . . . I still got ’em.” “Every day is a romantic day with her,” he added. “That’s my baby,” swooned Taj. And that’s when the kissing sounds commenced. When in Columbus, Taj noted that Ohio Stadium is her romantic date of choice. Not having attended a big school, the hugeness of the Shoe is exhilarating. “I love, love, love going to those games,” she said. “Running onto the field . . . it makes me feel like I’m still in college.” After 13 years together, the Georges still have game. Catch a glimpse of such bliss when the two visit the Gateway Barnes & Noble on February 21st to sign copies of Married for Real at 7 p.m.



614 Magazine


February 2012


STUPID CUPID These three wild-ass Valentine’s Day stories from (614) readers illustrate that this month’s impending holiday seems to elicit more weirdness than the rest of ’em. MC Pee Pants In college, my boyfriend surprised me with roses at my sorority house and dinner on Valentine’s Day. After a great meal at probably the only nice restaurant Athens, Ohio, has to offer, he asked if we could go grab a drink. We ended up going to a bar called Skippers. That evening, it happened to be Karaoke Night. One drink turned into many for him. My boyfriend (now my ex, obviously) spent the rest of the night singing Deadeye Dick’s “New Age Girl” and ended up getting so drunk he was throwing up all night. I am also about 80-percent sure that he peed his pants on the walk home. I guess when you gotta go, you gotta go! I sure knew how to pick them in college.

Doggy-style Gone Wrong Last year, my wife and I came home from dinner and were, ahem, getting ready for dessert. I was playing with our French bulldog before putting her and our puppy up for the night. I nuzzled her belly a few times, and got a warning growl. Over my wife’s objection, I ignored the dog since she growls all the time without incident (she’s very much my wife’s dog, though she’s grown to tolerate me). Well, just as I was laughing it off, she turned and snapped, more a warning than anything, but got me right on the nose. Didn’t think it was bad ’til I got to the bathroom and saw a significant amount of blood on my hands. Ended up in the ER getting a single (un-anesthetized) stitch in my septum . . . twice! A young resident did it the first time, and it wasn’t quite right, so the attending doc removed the hooked needle and re-did it in a slightly better spot. Finally got home at 4 a.m. with a funny story, but no, ahem, dessert for my troubles.

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Valentine’s Day

Lowered Expectations In my early 20s, I met this guy on an Internet dating site, and we had our first date on Valentine’s Day. I had seen some photographs of him and spoken on the phone so I felt pretty prepared, as it wasn’t a completely blind date. He came to pick me up, and was very nice but just not my type at all. I wanted to be a good sport and I didn’t want to ruin his night, so I tried to act like I was enjoying myself; however, he hadn’t made any reservations at any restaurants, and didn’t have any suggestions of what we should do. We tried four restaurants, all packed. We were close to a mall that had a few restaurants, so we tried there and same thing. We ended up eating at the little Chinese place in the food court, and were the only two people there. While we were there, some of the workers got into a huge fight and started yelling at each other in Chinese and throwing dishes at each other. We hurried up and left, no plans of what to do next, so we went to see the movie Great Expectations, during which my date leaned over to point out every time something was different than in the book. We finally got back to my place and he invited himself in for a drink. The only thing I had were maragaritas, so I made a pitcher. He drank one, and got so drunk that he couldn’t drive. He asked to sleep over, so I made him a nice bed on my futon. I went and slept in my room with the door locked. I woke up to him tapping on my door asking if he could come in – I pretended I didn’t hear him and waited for him to leave before I came out. He didn’t call for a second date.

614 Magazine


February 2012

with one of our workshops! The Basics of Floorwork Lap Dance Fundamentals Sizzling Chair Dance Gift Certificates Available!

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JAZZ MOVES COLUMBUS STARRING: COLUMBUS JAZZ ORCHESTRA & BALLETMET COLUMBUS WITH WOSU PUBLIC MEDIA Feb. 2-5, Feb. 8-12, 2012 Capitol Theatre - Riffe Center Wed-Thur 7:30 PM, Fri-Sat 8 PM, Sun 2 PM, 7:30 PM

Celebrate Columbus’ bicentennial with three of our city’s treasures!





March 2 - 3, 2012 Friday-Saturday, 8 PM Take part in the rebirth of the King-Lincoln District with a world premiere performance led by critically-acclaimed trombonist, renowned composer, and jazz ambassador Wycliffe Gordon!





I Level Dining Lounge & Wall Street Nightclub present a Carpenter Production

Brunch Buffet Bloody Mary Bar $4 Mimosas Female Illusionists .


Miss Gay USofA Classic 2011 Cattia Lee Love as Marilyn Monroe Miss Gay America 2010 Coti Collins as Reba McEntire

Diamond Hunter as Rihanna .

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Sunday February 26 the last Sunday of each month

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614 Magazine


t’s taken him years, but Mark Williams knows who he is, and he knows what he wants. The problem for the gay man, who at one time was married with a child, has been where to find it. Stuck between the seekers of casual sex on LGBT internet sites and what he felt to be a cultural disconnect with his gay peers, he’s long searched for the appropriate dating avenue for a 52-year-old retired teacher who’d rather walk the dogs and drink a microbrew than hit a dance club or art opening. Williams says he still has not clue of how to go about dating – despite his gregarious and outgoing personality. The combination makes him the perfect first client for the Q-Vault, a new first-of-its-kind LGBT matchmaking service in Columbus. For him, the hook was simple and immediate: “Intro-duc-tion – that was the word,” he said emphatically. “I’m open, I’m ready and I can handle the rejection; I just need someone to help me find someone – whether it works or not. I want the opportunity.” Those like Williams, seeking a clearer path to romance in the gay community, will be able to do so with Q-Vault, the brainchild of former Cincinnati millionaire matchmaker and advice columnist Nicci Sprouse, a straight woman, and Joel Diaz, Chief Development Officer at ARC Ohio, a gay man. “[Outlook] publisher Michael Daniels told me I needed to create a matchmaking service for the gay community, and I was like, ‘I’m straight – I don’t how to match them up,’’’ Sprouse laughed. Enter Diaz, a single, highly social type (he’s often been asked to set people up) who recognized the frustrating dynamic of dating as a young gay man in the city. “The biggest impetus for me specifically is that the gay community here in Columbus is so large,” he said. “In a lot of ways, the community has had to resort to online dating, largely because it’s still hard to live out in a community that’s open and accepting. It makes a big difference when you have someone out there helping you, and in a visible, more accessible format.” Jason Gonzales, after signing on to the project as a web developer, ironically feels that the offline component of the new fledgling business is the most key. “A lot of online dating is e-mailing back and forth, and you create this fantasy in your head. You never really penetrate that fantasy,” he said. “Our philosophy is, ‘Just go on the date, already.’” February 2012


First offline gay matchmaking service in the state launches in Columbus The goal of Q-Vault, says Sprouse, is to “take it out of the fantasy world, and into reality.” In-person evaluation gives clients a much better chance of an accurate match. “You get caught up,” she said. “You create this vision of what their voice sounds like and create this picture of pure ridiculousness.” “I don’t think [gay] people know where to go to look for serious relationships,” Diaz said. “That’s what we bring to the table. There’s really a gap here in the community.” The true heart of Q-Vault’s service, like their online counterparts, is convenience. Gonzales has developed an internal web component that will aid Sprouse and Diaz in

“I don’t think [gay] people know where to go to look for serious relationships. That’s what we bring to the table. There’s really a gap here in the community.” determining availability for clients and potential matches. Partnerships are also in the works with Columbus restaurants and other local entities. Q-Vault clients won’t just be presented with potential matches, but have dates set up for them. “We’re date concierges,” Sprouse says with a smile. Beyond that, Diaz adds that in Columbus, where LGBT citizens still can’t legally marry, helping the gay community find committed relationships takes on an even greater importance. “Even though we don’t have the same equality – gay people still can’t get married in Ohio – finding the person you can spend the rest of your life with is a step in the right direction.” – Travis Hoewischer For more information about Q-Vault’s services, visit 614 Magazine


February 2012





The Evolution of Man











was in the fourth grade when I became a ladies’ man. It was a great experience, until I sent her an email that ended it. Nevertheless, it sensitized Perhaps ‘girly man’ is more precise. me to the feelings of those who I had used before, and I vowed to never abuse trust like The year is 1989. The Soviet Union is in shambles. Seinfeld debuts. Acid-washed that again. jeans cover the asses of millions upon millions of American fashonistas. There was the serious wave, the one that felt like it would settle perfectly against me – And I, as a 10-year-old boy, was dutifully impaling earthworms with twigs, fueled by the wife wave. But no matter how hard she crashed, she couldn’t erode the jagged atheism a typical but non-FDA-approved diet of scabs, Elmer’s paste and cherry Kool-Aid, when that protrudes from me. No Jesus, no dice. After three years together, however – two of my world was forever altered. them cohabitating – I had become domesticated – a sweatshirt-wearing, lawn-mowing “Emily wants to go with you,” a female classmate declared to me, her disembodied Cliff Huxtable, if you will. head peeking into the half-buried playground-style monster truck tire in which I was By then, my drug- and booze-filled days were behind me. I finished college. I got a sales conducting my worm research. “Will you go with her?” gig with a prestigious firm, raked in a little bit of dough and bought a car. I applied Rogaine Of course this Emily chick was into me; little did I know at the time that women to the slowly developing bald spot on the back of my head. I shaved on a daily basis and adore the odor of mud, worm juice and edible glue. But in the mind of a still asexual preeven purchased a tanning package so that I could maintain a successful, professional look. I pubescent boy, women were of little importance. ate my scabs in private, away from prying eyes. That mindset lasted as long as a quadruple amI was ready for the final wave to hit. Or so “Life, for me and most guys, is nothing but a series of putee on a mechanical bull. This Emily, whoever I thought. she was, had changed me. I had become cogWhen she came, she didn’t crash so much as women, each a heavy wave careening into us, knocking nizant of breasts and the fruity, Jolly Rancher seep, filling in each crevice and working around smell that wafted around girls that age. each chunk of idiot bachelorism that had withoff chunks of undesirable traits and eroding sharp And more than 22 years and several dozen stood the thrusts of the waves that came before women later, I plopped down a knee and proher. Her goal wasn’t to morph me into her idea edges into smooth, woman-ready edifices primed posed to my girlfriend as a man made over by of what a man should be, to push me away from each woman who had crossed my path, for betthe vices that held firm even after all these years. for the eventual final chapter: the biggest wave of ter or for worse. Mostly for better. Her goal, as cheesy as it sounds, was to love me, them all, the one that settles snuggly into the orifices Life, for me and most guys, is nothing but warts and all, for who I was. a series of women, each a heavy wave careenAnd because of that, I fell in love with her, too. created by the others that came before her. The wife.” ing into us, knocking off chunks of undesirable Of course, she knows just as I do that the traits and eroding sharp edges into smooth, women who came before her – from mom to the woman-ready edifices primed for the eventual Bible-thumper – helped to guide me to where final chapter: the biggest wave of them all, the one that settles snuggly into the orifices I am today. And I know that, stealthily, she’ll still try to remake small parts of me: no created by the others that came before her. The wife. pot in the morning, no TV during sex, no box of mac and cheese and six-pack of Steel It all starts with mom. Don’t put that in your mouth. Don’t stick your tongue into Reserve for dinner. the electrical outlets. Don’t cut your brother’s ear off to see if it will grow back. DO So now it’s February, home of Valentine’s Day, a holiday I’ve avoided like a wellsay “please” and “thank you.” Do brush your teeth on a regular basis. Do remember trafficked porta potty on a sweltering August afternoon. Too mushy. Too commercial. to wipe thoroughly. Smells like s**t. And while we’ve both decided never to celebrate it – after all, in a solid It was mom’s job to lay the groundwork for her son. Never mind the insect and baserelationship, February 14th should be no different than October 14th – it serves as a ball card obsessions; those will be chipped away by women down the line. Just make sure reminder of where we came from, and where we’re going in the decades ahead. your boy’s undies are clear of streaks and he makes it to high school alive. Easy enough. Perhaps this year, though, a simple, homemade card is in order. An ocean scene. A Subsequent waves in my life have varied in size and intensity, but each was an imporserene inlet with a calm tide holding tight against the rocky shore, depicted entirely in tant cog in the overall picture. macaroni and glue. She and I. There’s the 19-year-old girlfriend I chased to Athens, Ohio, when I was 23. It was a Now if I can just find some of that delicious paste. miserable experience, but one that got my lazy ass back in college. There’s the coworker who I had used strictly for sex upon my return from Columbus. – Scott Woods


614 Magazine


February 2012





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6. GOODY BOY DINER Short North 1144 N. High St. 291.9090


German Village 912 S. High Street 614.445.9090 (35)

Cocktail Hour ---

Hal & Al’s: Rob Foster

Monday ---

Score Bar 145 N Fifth St. 4 – 7 p.m. $2 domestic beers $2 well drinks $1 off all other drinks ---Tuesday --Ringside Cafe 19 N Pearl St. 4 – 7 p.m. $3 imported beers $3 Long Island iced teas $2 well drinks $1 off draft beers   ---Wednesday --Flatiron Bar and Diner 129 E Nationwide Blvd. 4 – 7 p.m. $5 wings $5 fried calamari $3.50 draft beers $2 domestic bottles $2 well drinks   --- Thursday --Barrio 185 N High St. 4 – 7 p.m. ½ off wine ½ off sangria, margarita pitches   --- Friday --Fabian’s 691 S High St. 3 – 8 p.m. $3.50 imported draft beers $1.50 domestic beers


[im-bahyb] -bibed, -bib•ing. –verb (used with object) 1. to consume (liquids) by drinking; drink: He imbibed great quantities of Malbec.

Photos by Chris Casella


here’s something to be said for straying from the beaten path. Fortunately, in Columbus, such jaunts don’t take you all that far out of the way. Hal & Al’s has worked hard to distinguish itself as a destination despite its less-than-prime location (about a mile south of Carabar on Parsons Avenue). The place offers plenty to make the drive to the south side worthwhile: 120 different craft beers, completely cover-free live music on the weekends, organized beer tastings, and one of Columbus’ two 100% vegan kitchens. That’s right – vegan. Even sans meat, they make a mean taco. Bar manager Rob Foster has been integral in the bar’s development. He took a bit of an odd path to get there – after seven years in the Army, he found himself playing desk jockey for the government. He broke free (as all good-spirited people tend to) and wound up juggling knives at House of Japan. No joke. A fortuitous meeting with a friend got his foot in the door at Hal & Al’s, and presto – new career. Rob writes the menu, selects the playlist and slings the drinks, too. But don’t come looking for hibiscus syrup, rose water or chocolate bitters. Hal & Al’s is neither huffy nor stuffy. It has the feel of a well-executed man cave, and as such, the drinks are meant to be refreshing and fun. Topping the cocktail list is the Berry Cooler, a suped-up vodka and cranberry concoction that is probably best on a hot, sunny day, but has enough liquor in it to keep you warm. The Martian Shandy mixes Absolut Citron with Harpoon’s UFO White (beer and liquor, together at last) and begs to be guzzled. But Rob takes the most pride in the his-and-hers shots he dreamed up and dedicated to our generation’s original power couple, Saved by the Bell’s Zack Morris and Kelly Kapowski. Zack is tropical and cool, and you can’t tell me Malibu rum isn’t just the right choice to carry the drink. Kelly, of course, is sweet and fruity but still packs a wallop. If Hal & Al’s sounds like a fun place to be, that’s because it is. Your friends may balk at making the trek, but sometimes you’ve got to switch it up; just don’t be surprised if you wind up going back for more.

– V.R. Bryant


614 Magazine


February 2012


Berry Cooler 2 oz. Three Olives Berry 2 oz. UV Pink Lemonade Vodka Black raspberry liqueur Cranberry juice Sprite Build ingredients in a shaker with ice, mix gently and serve in a pint glass.

Martian Shandy Harpoon UFO Belgian White Absolut Citron Draw beer from tap, add a noticeable amount of Citron, and stir. Enjoy.

Zack Morris Malibu rum Stoli Vanilla Vodka Maui Blue Pucker Splash of Sprite

Kelly Kapowski Three Olives Berry Three Olives Cherry Black raspberry liqueur Splash of cranberry juice

614 Magazine


February 2012



The Vine, Redefined

Inventive makeover turns Short North’s Camelot Cellars into hip boutique winery By Kelly Laine Abrams


efore Janine Aquino arrived, the vibe at Camelot Cellars was about as dry as a $5 Merlot. She had served as the consultant for a few months before taking ownership of the establishment a year ago. “Nobody recognized this place as a winery, you know?” she said. “It was like some wine gift shop that people walked by, and maybe occasionally they would come in to make wine. But it really had no purpose.” “My goal was to make this a winery again, but also a place in the Short North that was cool – that people would come to.” If you’re one of those who haven’t been to CC yet, it’s merely a matter of time. From fashion shows and bridal couture events, to nail polish swaps and masquerade balls, the Cellar has re-defined itself in line with the artistic mold of many of the other shops in the corridor. Aquino’s inventive branding has raised sales 45 percent in just a year’s time. “With other businesses, the challenge was really getting them to a point where they were making money, and then I would sell them off,” she said. “This was a different dynamic. I bought it and I was like, ‘Oh my god, there is SO much to do.’ But I was excited.”

Monday Margarita Madness $1.99 house lime margaritas

taco & tequila tuesdays 99¢ harD tacos

(beef or chicken)

$4.99 avion silver shots

Wicked Wednesdays


$2.99 house lime margaritas $2.99 spicy gringo shots

big ass thursdays 1/2 off big ass burritos $5.00 big ass coronas & pacificos


Your Downtown Destination Celebrate with Aquino and staff on February 8th during their One Year Anniversary party from 7 to 10 p.m. at Camelot Cellars (958 N High St.). Enjoy free valet parking, appetizers and $2 off all glasses of wine. For more information, visit

201 S. High St. Columbus, OH 43215 | (614) 222.8830


614 Magazine


February 2012


friday salsa night

Aquino was born into the wine business. Her family lived in the Hudson Valley in New York, on a small vineyard, and had a third generation wine importing business in Manhattan. “I was the one that got the wine gene in the family; I mean, the others enjoyed it, but I really enjoyed it,” she laughed. “Through college, I did all my work on wine – all my papers, everything. People probably thought I was a wino. I went to a Catholic college with nuns. They were all like, ‘What’s wrong with her?’ but they were fascinated by it.” “My mom took us to a psychic when we were in high school. The guy told me I was going to own a winery. I still remember that to this day.” After college, Aquino went to the Culinary Institute of America where she studied food and wine pairings. Her arrival in Columbus was unexpected, as was how quickly customers have returned and retained their interest in the boutique winery. “I didn’t expect people to take to me, personally, so quick,” she said. “I have a lot of repeat customers and I know who they are. I’ve never had that in a business.” Camelot Cellars is virtually unrecognizable since the complete renovation – an open space that retains its warmth through romantic Tuscan elements. But the renovation isn’t the only explanation for the recent success. As Aquino puts it, “I guess maybe if I was a different kind of person, stuck up or something, then maybe it wouldn’t be as successful. I’m not fake. I’m here. I think people relate to that.” 614 Magazine


February 2012

Dance lessons at 8pm Dancing at 10pm 20 lunches $6.99 and under happy hour M-f 3-7pM

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By Kimberly Stolz



Meet the Chef

Chef Robert Harrison, along with his wife Lara and wee lad Brennan, makes his home in New Albany, in a house of wide-planked floors and lots of light. The kitchen was built to their specifications and the oven hood vents outside and is so powerful that the entire neighborhood knows what’s for dinner at the Harrison’s. It’s been a long trip, winding back and forth across the country, for the family to end up in the middle of America. As Lara helps three-year-old Brennan makes a noodle necklace for his dad, Chef chats about his grandmother’s delicious stews lighting a culinary fire in the young man’s belly. A native of Hawaii, Harrison went East to continue his love affair with the food arts at the Culinary Institute of America in New York, where he saw his first real snow. After graduating, he went to work at a few places in the area and met Lara. As people in love do, the couple got engaged and were living together in the Big Apple on that darkest of days, 9/11. “We were both at work,” recalled Harrison. “I was working at the Russian Tea Room and she was at a fashion show for Sak’s. I remember we had a hard time getting in contact with each other because the cell towers were on top of the World Trade Centers. We lived outside the city and when they opened the trains up, we rode home next to a guy covered in dust. It was so sad. We were pretty young and it was pretty scary. After that, our families wanted us to leave the city. We loved the city; it was hard to leave.” Harrison believes that 9/11 not only changed the country’s perceptions, but they way we eat. “I really think 9/11 started the whole comfort food cooking


614 Magazine

ew things make a home chef happier then adding a double-duty recipe to the roll call. It’s a way to expand one’s kitchen repertoire without a lot of fuss. This month, Executive Chef Robert Harrison of DeNovo Bistro & Bar highlights that most curious of double agents: a side dish that also works as a dessert. A dish that crosses the boundary between savory and sweet like a sneaky scrumptious snake, Salty Caramel Apple Bread Pudding is surprisingly easy to concoct given the resulting hedonistic flavor. Nicknamed the “poor man’s pudding,” bread pudding was initially created to make use of stale bread and neglected ends. These days, however, bread pudding has evolved into a dish that can hold up to any chef’s imagination, from a main dish complement to a post-meal treat. Chef Harrison plays at the border of the two, creating a dish that is as perfect alongside pork – apples and porcine dishes always play well together – as it is served with a rich vanilla ice cream. Heed Chef ’s advice and use a loaf of brioche, since the bread is “rich with butter and egg.” “I love bread puddings; they are fun to play with,” he explained, as the aroma of toasty brioche filled the kitchen. “The salty/sweet/savory is a great combination – for Valentine’s Day at DeNovo, we’re going to do a foie gras sweet onion bread pudding with a filet.” Okay, so foie gras may be taking it to another level for home chefs. Break your bread pudding cherry with this recipe and then see what variations you discover on your own.

because everybody wanted to stay at home,” he commented. Lara’s family still lived in San Diego, so the couple moved to the West Coast, with Harrison working at the über-romantic La Valencia Hotel in La Jolla. Eventually, the now-married couple decided they wanted to raise a family somewhere with four seasons. On the advice of a friend, the two checked out Columbus, swooned, and moved to the 614. His experience at the famed Russian Tea Room followed Harrison to Columbus, albeit in a strange way. “When I was giving birth to Brennan,” laughed Lara, “my OBGYN found out that he had worked there and asked him for the recipe for Chicken Kiev – during my delivery!” Before working at DeNovo, Harrison cheffed for the gonebut-not-forgotten Short Story Brasserie in Granville. Fans will be pleased to know that not only is Harrison at DeNovo, but he brought sous chef John Franke along, as well. Creating lasting relationships in the back of the house is important for Chef. “For any chef, the goal is to make yourself successful, make your sous chef successful and to always teach as you go along,” he said. To Harrison, there are two kinds of chefs. Recipe chefs, he explained, follow recipes to the letter, while creative chefs work off the cuff. He is the latter and enjoys making up new dishes and playing with flavors. He always is having a blast working downtown. “It’s exciting, it’s energetic, it’s growing,” he said. “We have a great location and we expect to explode in the spring, with the sound stage opening at the Commons.”


February 2012


Salty Caramel Apple Bread Pudding

Re AW st au 61 A ra 4’s RD nt B E 20 es D 10 t & 20 11

Double Agent: Bread Pudding


Ingredients Stage 1 1 loaf (approx. 2 lbs.) brioche, or bread of your choice, 1/2-inch diced Stage 2 4 Granny Smith apples, skin on/cored, 1/4-inch diced 1/2 teaspoon nutmeg 1 tablespoon cinnamon 2 ounces butter 1 ounce Jack Daniel’s

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Stage 3 1 quart heavy cream 2 cups milk 15 egg yolks 1 cup sugar

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Stage 4 2 cups sugar 2 tablespoons Kosher salt

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Method Preheat oven to 350° F. Stage 1 Dice bread into 1/2-inch cubes, place on a cookie sheet and toast in oven until crisp. Stage 2 Dice apples into 1/4-inch pieces. In a large, hot sauté pan, place the butter, followed by the apples and spices. Cook 2-3 minutes. Pull pan back from heat and add the Jack Daniel’s. Return to the heat and cook an additional 30 seconds. Set aside for later. (CAUTION: If working with an open flame, the alcohol will flame up while burning off remaining alcohol. Be careful.)

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Stage 3 In a pot, combine milk and cream together and bring to a slow, rolling boil. Make sure not to over boil or it will make a huge mess. In a large bowl, combine egg yolks and sugar and whisk until a creamy yellow. When the cream mix is hot, it is time to “temper” the two mixtures. Slowly add the hot cream into the cold yolks a little at a time, using half the cream mixture. Then take the yolk and cream mixture and combine into the remaining cream. Now, the mixture is tempered. Strain through a fine mesh colander and reserve for later. Stage 4 Place sugar in a medium sauté pan and cook on medium heat. Stir continually until completely melted and auburn in color. Be careful not to burn the sugar, or yourself, as the melty mass will be super hot. Now that you’ve gone through all these steps, let’s make bread pudding. Find a casserole dish large enough to hold the bread. Spray the dish with a nonstick spray and start layering. First, place half the bread into the pan; then, take half the apple mixture and place atop the bread. Next, with a spoon, drizzle half of the melted sugar atop the ingredients and, finally, sprinkle the layer with salt. Repeat the process once more to finish the assembly. The fun part: pour the egg and cream mixture completely over everything. Take a flat spatula and press the bread mixture down so that it can soak up the cream. As you do this, the caramel sugar topping will crack and become very sharp, so use caution. Cover the pan with foil and place in a 350-degree oven for 20-25 minutes. When the time is up, take the foil off and shake the pan to see if the mass moves as one. If not, continue to bake uncovered for 5-10 minutes or until done. Serve warm.

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February 2012




Valentine’s Day at La Scala

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Breakfast with the

Pappas Family Putting the “family” in “family-run” business By Nicholas Dekker


’ve always loved breakfast. I think the fact that you’ve seen my gleeful face perched in wait over numerous plates of waffles, eggs and gravy bears that out. But in the local breakfast scene, no one can hold a hash brown to the Pappas family. If you’ve never been to a true “family-run” restaurant, you need to take a trip downtown or to Franklinton to visit Tommy’s Diner, Milo’s Deli or the Capitol Café. In those three establishments, you’ll find members of the Pappas family hard at work, showing you how families really do work together. Parents Tommy and Kathy are busy at the diner, along with their son Michael. Their older son Louie bounces back and forth between the deli and the café. Grandparents, aunts, uncles and extended family members have all joined in. Through their efforts, the Pappas family has made a name for themselves, and become a nexus for Columbus restaurants: they share family and friend connections with places as diverse as Honey Dip Donuts & Diner, Easy Street Café and Jimmy V’s. The family’s first big venture, Tommy’s Diner, opened in 1989. Tommy and Kathy renovated an old drive-in on West Broad Street in Franklinton. When Louie and Mi-


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February 2012


chael were old enough, they began working at the restaurant, doing everything from driving deliveries to serving as line cooks. It didn’t take long before regulars made the restaurant a mainstay of the neighborhood. The customers are so dedicated that after a fire gutted the restaurant in 1998, it was the regular patrons who urged the Pappas family to rebuild and re-open. The diner itself is an institution, both as an anchor for the Franklinton neighborhood and as a tribute to the way diners ought to be. Bright red booths, a long curving counter, checkered floors and retro kitsch welcome regulars to their seats. You can feast on all the classics, too: gyro omelets, steak and eggs, buttermilk pancakes, plus daily specials like eggs benedicts and corned beef hash. But one restaurant was not enough. In 1998, Tommy and Kathy partnered with Kathy’s sister Demetra to open a deli just up the street. They named it Milo’s after the two boys: Michael and Louie. When Louie graduated college in 2000, his father approached him about managing the new business. Louie asked to take the summer off to think about it, and was told, “You have until Sunday.” Needless to say, he said yes. Just like the diner, the deli has become synonymous with Franklinton. Customers enjoy deli breakfasts like lox and eggs, pita sandwiches and paninis made with deli meats, scrambled eggs and cheese. The restaurant also serves as a base for Catering By Milo’s. Louie has led the business to become one of the city’s busiest caterers, serving meals at Ohio State, Children’s Hospital, Franklin Park Conservatory, and the Ohio Statehouse. A quarter of their catering business is just serving breakfast. The Statehouse connection drew the family’s interest when management put out a call for bids on their basement café space earlier this year. Louie made a proposal to operate the café and serve as in-house caterer for the state capitol, and this past July opened the Capitol Café by Milo’s. Louie calls it a “confluence of both Tommy’s and Milo’s,” mixing favorites from the diner as well as specials from the deli. The result is a restaurant that actually has a personality, compared to the previous café, which was essentially a cafeteria. The beautiful space, located on the lower floor of the Statehouse near the museum and gift shop, boasts vaulted brick ceilings, beautiful wooden seats and even a bar. The Capitol Café is now a favorite of the downtown crowd. Customers are drawn to fresh-made food and specials like the Italian benedict, which layers prosciutto and capicola with a sun-dried tomato pesto on top of polenta. Another favorite is the Cobb omelet, with turkey, bacon and fresh guacamole. The menu and the location provide a unique dining experience for downtown workers and Statehouse visitors alike. All three restaurants have seen success, but of course, there are always challenges to working with family. Louie laughed when he described how many times his father “fired” he and his brother from the diner. “Dad once fired us both and then made us stand out back and wait for Mom to come get us,” he said. Despite all that, the family continues their work together. And you don’t have to be a Pappas to be treated like family. Their restaurants’ staying power has been their hospitality. Customers to any of the three Pappas joints are welcomed like relatives, and that’s what keeps them returning.

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February 2012


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hen Dennis Bennett’s in-laws asked the recent Ohio State University graduate if he wanted to help them open a branch of their wildly popular Cleveland-area restaurant in Columbus, he was more than a little apprehensive. “Well, I have 20 years of experience with this, and I know what you can pay, so, no,” he had said. “But I’ll do it if I can own it.” Bennett, now the operating partner at Clintonville’s Polish eatery Babushka’s Kitchen, knew that the success of its Cleveland-area location was more than likely built upon the nearly 30 percent of the local populous who can claim Polish ancestry. Columbus, according to his research, is closer to four percent Polish. “The concept was different in Columbus,” Bennett said. “We really felt we needed to educate the consumer here.” If chowing down on out-of-this-world homemade pierogis, cabbage rolls and smoked Kielbasa, to name just a few menu items, is an education in Polish delicacies, one might consider a trip to Babushka’s as qualification for the dean’s list. From humble beginnings as a pierogi-only eatery after Bennett’s in-laws both found themselves out of work, the business shuffled between several different locations before settling in a tiny nook within a strip mall in Northfield, Ohio. Initially conceived as a bakery, Bennett’s mother-in-law added a few tables and chairs to the space and opened up the menu. Soon, business was booming. Another location was built in Indepen-

February 2012



dence, Ohio, and the North High Street location in Clintonville opened for business with Bennett at the helm a year ago this month. Boasting huge plates of hot, inexpensive Polish food, the Columbus location has thrived during the last 12 months. “Here in Columbus, people with Eastern European heritage just started coming out of the woodwork,” Bennett said. “Everything just started to spiral.” Folks who are apprehensive toward Polish cuisine, he said, are surprised to learn they’ve eaten it before, and liked it.

“Here in Columbus, people with Eastern European heritage just started coming out of the woodwork. Everything just started to spiral.” “I would say to someone who said they wouldn’t like pierogis, ‘Well, have you had Mrs. T’s before?’ And they’d say, ‘Yeah, I love Mrs. T’s!’ They had no idea they already have tried so much ‘Polish’ food in the past.” Beyond the out-of-the-woodwork Eastern European population in the city, Bennett said Columbus is an ideal location for off-the-beaten-path eateries. “Columbus is a food town; they love to support new, local places.” The Cleveland location, he said, gets a lot of hard-core Poles, while Columbus has a younger, hipper crowd who are open to anything new, as long as it tastes good. And unless you’ve been to Babushka’s Kitchen, you don’t know good. 614 Magazine


February 2012

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First thing first, if you plan to go out to dinner on Valentine’s Day, you need to make your reservations tout de suite! Many of the city’s most romantic spots, such as The Refectory and Lindey’s, are serving special prix fixe menus. Do some research – rock the web, make calls and see what lovely vittles our precious chefs are cooking up for this most romantic of eves. When the weather outside is freezing, what better way to warm up but from the inside out? A good dose of hot sauce will have you sweatin’ in no time. The North Market’s Fiery Foods Weekend heats up the city February 18th and 19th. With everything from tropical tunes to spicy noms, the Fiery Foods event is an annual fave of capsaicin aficionados. Think you got what it takes? Bust out your secret recipes and enter one of the amateur contests, including hot sauce, salsa, guacamole and chili. Local chefs will strut their spice in a Chef Chili Challenge. If you are all thumbs in the kitchen, but are blessed (cursed?) with an inhuman ability to scarf hot food, compete in the fiery cornbread, jalapeno or hot wing eating contests. New at this year’s event is beer! Both the Columbus Brewing Company and Elevator Brewing Company will be on hand with zesty brews. Visit www.northmarket. com for details. The Wexner Center’s Field & Screen series is a celluloid celebration of food culture, from examining the role milk plays in our culture via Milk and the Land on February 11th, to getting a ringside seat to watch the genius of Ferran Adria as he and his staff develop the menu for El Bulli, the now-shuttered restaurant that was considered the best in the world during its run, in El Bulli: Cooking in Process on February 14th. If you want to combine the actual eating of food with the watching of it, the dinner & a movie event on February 17th will showcase the talents of chefs John and Kimberly Skaggs of Heirloom on the plate and the talents of filmmaker Ian Cheney as he introduces a double-feature of two of his short works, Truck Farm and The City Dark. For tickets and complete event listing, visit As consumers become more and more knowledgeable about the provenance of their comestibles, interest in food education, sustainability and policy is not just for “those in the business.” We are all in the business of creating and supporting food that is healthy and makes sense, both economically and for the community itself. To learn more about such matters, take a drive out to Granville on February 18th and 19th to participate in the 33rd Annual OEFFA Conference. This year, the Ohio Ecological Food and Farm Association’s signature event is themed “Sowing the Seeds of Our Food Sovereignty” and will feature keynote speakers Woody Tasch, speaking on “Slow Money: Investing as if Food, Farms, and Fertility Matter,” and Andrew Kimbrell, a leading environmental attorney and founder of The Center for Food Safety, tackling “The Future of Food.” Various workshops throughout the weekend will touch on everything from composting to making hard cider, and organic pest management to mushroom logs. For registration information, log on to – Kimberly Stolz


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f only there was a French word for street cred; it might for an afternoon tea or a delicious breakfast. Also availas well be translated as Pâtisserie Lallier. able are a wide selection of macarons – anything from Pronounced ‘Pah-tis-ah-ree Lah-lee-ay,’ the bakthe Buckeye Macaron, made from peanut flour with rich ery is owned and operated by Michelle Kozak, who spent chocolate ganache filling, to Parisian varieties filled with several months over the past three years taking intensive jam, vanilla bean paste or caramel filling. Kozak’s personal courses at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. Just this past Defavorite dessert? The Croissant aux Amandes – a butter cember, she finished the program and received her pascroissant with an almond filling. try chef diploma. So, in other words, the French delights Getting your hands on Pâtisserie Lallier products is she whips up each week are the real obviously the next order of business, deal. Most of her recipes came from so look for them at Global Gallery in the prestigious school, but have been Clintonville (delivered Friday mornPâtisserie Lallier tweaked to her own tastes, as well as ings) and at Touch of Earth in the to her devoted customers. North Market (delivered Saturday (614) 562.3003 Kozak has made it a point to utimornings). Kozak hopes to spend lize only fair-trade chocolates in such more time frequenting local farmers temptations as her Chocolat Noir markets, as it gives her a chance to Truffles (dark chocolate truffles), meet her customers. “It’s really great ganache for Parisian Macarons and Orangettes (candied to have that interaction,” she said of her patrons. “I like orange peels dipped in melted chocolate). She’s also esto get their feedback on how they enjoyed their pastries.” tablished connections in the local community; she purThe best place of all to pick up some French delicacies chases her dairy products from Snowville Creamery (look is to go straight to the source. You can learn more about for a recipe of the above-mentioned truffles in Friends the bakery and place orders by visiting online at www. of Snowville Creamery Recipe Book), as well as local eggs, peaches from Laurelville’s Rhoads Farm Market and Ohio Pâtisserie Lallier – c’est tout simplement magnifique! apple cider, among other ingredients. Bon appétit! Gluten-free aficionados will fawn over Pâtisserie Lallier’s dense almond and pistachio pavés that are perfect – Tara Brewster 614 Magazine


February 2012


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February 2012



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A copy of the original plat of Columbus from 1818 is on display at the Columbus Historical Society (The big, empty blocks on the map are swampland).

It’s long been rumored in the local history community that the 1812 founding of Columbus was based on a game of cards. “There have been some charges of shenanigans,” said local historian Richard Barrett. “There have been accusations that it wasn’t all above aboard, like taking people out drinking the night before the vote.” But as for a high-stakes card game, in which the future of our city was bid like so many chips, it’s largely rumor. “I don’t think we have good records of everything that happened in those years,” Barrett said. It’s of no consequence, though. The real story is far more interesting. “The politicking was intense” for the new state capital, wrote Charles Chester Cole in 2001’s A Fragile Capital. Soon after statehood, Ohio politicians and landowners were fighting each other over where to locate the state capital. In February 1810, the General Assembly passed an act to locate it within 40 miles of the geographic “common centre” of the state. The state capital meant wealth for businessmen, landowners and residents. “… every


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settlement in the State even remotely eligible to win the prize took timely steps to secure it,” wrote Alfred E. Lee in History of the City of Columbus, Capital of Ohio published in 1892. Delaware, Worthington, Zanesville, Lancaster and Newark were “early, ardent suitors.” Dublin was willing to throw in a distillery if the General Assembly chose them. The lobbying for votes began, potentially including drinking, cards, bets and other various “shenanigans.” Lucas Sullivant, the largest landowner in Ohio (he had 41,000 acres by 1810), wanted the capital to be located in Franklinton, the town he founded in 1801. A special commission for the location of the new state capital rebuffed him, saying that Franklinton always flooded. But Sullivant wasn’t done fighting. Sullivant’s brother-in-law and business partner Lyne Starling moved to Franklinton in 1805. Starling floated goods from Franklinton to New Orleans, and speculated on land on Wolf Ridge across the Scioto from Franklinton. “There is no agreeable society of any kind in this place, not a single girl worth a cent, none handsome, agreeable, rich or accomplished . . . they never speak of me without an ill-natured remark and never invite me to their parties,” Starling said in a letter to his sister. John Kerr, an Irish immigrant, moved to Franklinton in 1810 and made “extensive investments in land,” according to Lee. Alexander McLaughlin and James Johnston also speculated on land locally. With Sullivant’s help, Starling, Kerr, McLaughlin and Johnston devised a plan to secure the capital on Wolf Ridge.

February 2012


The land on Wolf Ridge – so called because there were wolves everywhere – was of relatively poor quality. Lizard Creek, the Cattail Swamp and numerous streams kept the land saturated. The only things on the east side of the Scioto were a dense forest, an Indian mound and John Brickell, a wild frontiersman who, wrote Lee, “for many years had been a captive among the Indians,” and who now wore animal skins and moccasins. “Just above [Brickell’s] cabin was the old Indian campground . . . where Indian feasts had been held, councils of the tribes deliberated, and horrible barbarities inflicted on unfortunate captives.” Yet Sullivant, Starling, Kerr, McLaughlin and Johnston had a friend and ally in the state government: Joseph Foos. Joe Foos was a judge and state senator from Franklinton. Foos owned the first ferry and the first hotel in Franklinton. His tavern was considered the “political headquarters of the settlement,” Lee wrote. And like his Franklinton compatriots, Foos knew he could make money from a local state capital. “Foos was hoping to gain financially if the land across the Scioto from Franklinton were selected” for the state capital, wrote Cole. In their proposal to the Ohio General Assembly, Starling, Kerr, McLaughlin and Johnston said that they would give 10 acres for a capitol building, 10 acres for a penitentiary, build the jail and all the state offices at their own expense, and would give the state $100,000 if they failed to meet these obligations. 614 Magazine


An educational foundation for working adults in Columbus for over 100 years, Franklin University has continually adapted our educational offerings to the changing demands of business and industry. We are proud of our organizational partnerships, our students, and our alumni who have contributed to make Columbus a thriving and vibrant city.

February 2012



– Lyne Starling, one of the original founders of Columbus, in a letter to his sister.

Other towns, politicians and landowners were making attractive offers, but none could compare. “In the closing hours of the session a supreme effort was made in which Foos, Sullivant and other alert citizens of Franklinton took part, and when the test finally came, a decided majority was found on the side of Mr. Starling and his associates,” wrote Lee. It was Valentine’s Day – February 14, 1812. Foos was elated, and suggested the capital be named after his boyhood hero, Christopher Columbus. Lots in the new town went for sale on June 18, 1812. That same day, President James Madison declared war on Great Britain. The British were teaming up with Native American tribes. Franklinton was on the frontier, and was still a wild place. Natives lived nearby. Men wore deerskin pants. The state was paying residents for wolf and panther scalps. A drunk guy killed a bear in town. “Women who were so fortunate as to have shoes,” wrote an early resident, “saved them for Sunday use and carried them as they walked along to church.” State Representative (1812 and 1817) and eventual member of the Ohio Supreme Court Gustavus Swan wrote: “Goods were imported, mainly from Philadelphia, in wagons; and our exports consisting of horses, cattle, and hogs, carried themselves to market. The mails were brought to us once a week on horseback, if not prevented by high water. I feel safe in saying there was not in the county a chair for every two persons, not a knife and fork for every four. The proportion of the rough population was very large. With that class, to say that he to fight was to praise a man; and it was against him if he refused to drink. Aged persons and invalids, however, were respected and protected and could avoid drinking and fighting with impunity; but even they could not safely interfere to interrupt a fight.” With the war underway, General William Henry Harrison, the head of the Northwest Army, was using Franklinton as his military headquarters. “Nothing here but the sound of war,” wrote Starling. About 3,000 soldiers from Ohio, Pennsylvania, Kentucky and Virginia arrived, and then moved to the front. Foos became a Brigadier General. Sarah Sullivant (Lucas’ wife) cared for sick soldiers encamped in her front yard. Locals sold goods to the army, and “nearly every man’s pocket was flushed,” said Lee. Harrison met with 50 Native American chiefs in Franklinton, 4,600 hogs tramped through town to feed the troops, and local women ran off with soldiers. “My wife Nancy has eloped from my bed and board without any just cause,” wrote Daniel Ferguson in the Freeman’s Chronicle in 1814. Brooken Lynes wrote: “My wife, Maria, has left my bed and


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board and has since conducted herself in a very romantic and incorrigible manner.” The war ended and, as folks were flush with cash, land in Columbus sold “readily and at good prices,” Lee wrote. Starling, Kerr, McLaughlin and Johnston became rich almost overnight. “Property all sells very high in Columbus,” wrote Betsy Deshler, whose husband David was one of the early landowners. (Her letters to friends back East provide a historical framework for the early days of Columbus.) Sullivant bought land, and then built the first bridge across the river. Construction of the new city of Columbus had begun. In 1815, Jarvis Pike was contracted to fell trees on Capitol Square. Deer came and fed on the leaves of the fallen timber. A flag was placed and a sapling elm tree planted where the new capitol building would be constructed. During the night, someone cut down the tree, and stole the flag. Replacements were installed. But it happened again. Residents assumed it was a closet Tory, and advertised a $100 bounty on the “perpetrator’s” head. Workers then needed bricks for the new statehouse. They went to the old Indian mound nearby. “The bricks in it were made partly from bones – apparently human skeletons – dug up from a handsome, high mound that was removed from the corner of High and Mound Streets,” according to Cole. The ladies of Columbus sewed a carpet for the capitol building. By the end of 1813, 300 residents had moved to Columbus. They came to the fledgling city from all over. “Our nearest neighbors are from Vermont, consequently Yankees,” wrote Deshler. “Our next neighbors are Virginians . . . the next, a German family.” The town was being “settled by people from all the other States,” wrote Robert McCoy, an early Columbus resident, “some being strictly Religious and some very wild.” Half the town’s population was children and teenagers, said Cole. John Cotton of Massachusetts wrote of Columbus in 1815: “The streets are filled with stumps of trees and environed with woods, which give the town the appearance of having emerged from the forest. The people . . . do not make the most agreeable company.” Alexis de Tocqueville wrote, “In Ohio, everyone has come to make money.” As early as 1813, hotels, called “taverns,” began springing up in Columbus. “The use of distilled liquors was very common, and every tavern had its licensed bar,” wrote Lee. Robert “Uncle Bob” Russell ran the Globe. Other early taverns included the White Horse Tavern, the City House, the Swan Tavern, the Red Lion, the Black Bear and the Golden Lamb. At the corner of High and Rich streets, two brothers named Day, who were “exboatmen,” ran a bar “disguised as a grocery,” Lee wrote. The “grocery” became so “notorious for its brawls among Scioto River navigators” that it was nicknamed ‘The War Office.’ “The quarrelsome boatmen of the ‘War Office’” often needed the assistance of Columbus’ first lawyers. Whisky and mint juleps were favorites among the city’s early residents. “Mr. John M. Kerr [one of the city’s founders] says it was habitual with many of the most prominent citizens of the borough to enjoy their mint juleps on summer evenings seated on the sidewalk chairs or benches of the coffeehouses and taverns,” wrote Lee. “If a lady of their acquaintance chanced to pass by they rose and greeted her graciously each with his minted julep in his hand.” Coffeehouses were for “gossip, refreshment and gaming,” according to Lee, and attracted professional gamblers, drinkers and people looking to socialize. Though “many of these establishments” opened in early Columbus, Young’s Coffeehouse, later the Eagle Coffeehouse, was by far the most popular. Starling owned the building. Early local resident Tom West was seen in Young’s “lying on the counter in an accustomed state of intoxication.” Attached to Young’s was a public bathhouse – “probably the only one in the borough.” The water for the bathhouse, Lee wrote, “was pumped by a big black bear, chained to

February 2012


a treadmill in the backyard.” Once at Young’s, an actor named Trowbridge was teasing the bear. Just then, the bear broke free of its collar. Everyone scattered. Kerr tried to jump on a table to avoid the bear but hit his head and knocked himself out “for several minutes.” Once the bear was captured, “the loungers resumed their juleps and their jollity.” Entertainer J.B. Gardiner brought an elephant, two camels and a jaguar to early Columbus. A “gang of wolves” chased one resident on horseback all the way to her home. Lucas Sullivant became president of Columbus’ first bank. And Kerr was elected to the borough’s first elected Council. “The first tax passed by the council was a fiftycent levy on dogs,” according to Cole, which was then increased to a dollar a dog. Joel Buttles and Dr. Lincoln Goodale became successful merchants. Starling, after a “grand jollification,” got so drunk on wine that he mistakenly put on another man’s pants. And in 1817, President James Monroe came to town wearing a tri-corner hat.

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Lucas Sullivant, the largest landowner in Ohio (he had 41,000 acres by 1810), wanted the capital to be located in Franklinton, the town he founded in 1801. A special commission for the location of the new state capital rebuffed him, saying that Franklinton always flooded. But Sullivant wasn’t done fighting.


The new penitentiary, surrounded by a log structure and featuring whipping posts, was too small from the start. Polly Mifflin was in jail for stealing bank notes; 15 men were locked up for larceny; four for horse stealing; three for forgery; and two brothers were doing time for assault and battery, attempted robbery and attempted murder. “Only one prisoner had lived in Franklin County,” wrote Cole. Though the new borough of Columbus was growing, a post-war economic collapse soon struck the country. To make life even more miserable, “the residents of the new little city were visited by a scourge of malarial disease,” according to Ruth Young White’s We Too Built Columbus (1936). “The undrained forests surrounding Columbus became filled with rank growth during the spring and summer months.” Deshler buried several of her children who died from illness during this time. “There is not one, young or old, but that is of a dead yellow color. No kinds of business are going on except making coffins and digging graves.” Deshler herself died not long after. The economic collapse forced early Columbus landowners into bankruptcy. “Single lots which had been held at two or three hundred dollars seven years before were sold for ten or twenty and some as low as even seven or eight dollars each,” wrote Lee. Of the city’s original founders, Alexander McLaughlin, “one of the wealthiest men in the state,” was ruined, wrote Jacob Henry Studer in 1873’s Columbus Ohio: Its History, Resources, and Progress. James Johnston also went bankrupt. John Kerr – who was elected Columbus’ second mayor – “weathered the storm,” wrote Lee, but died in 1823, “leaving behind a young family to inherit, and unfortunately lose his large estate.” Starling survived the economic collapse. He died at age 64, a bachelor, never finding an “agreeable” girl. Foos presented a plan to Congress to build a canal in Nicaragua that connected the Atlantic and Pacific. Sullivant lost his wife in 1814 and his daughter Sarah a month later, leaving him to raise his three sons, William, Lucas and Joseph, in the burgeoning city that he helped establish.


“There is no agreeable society of any kind in this place, not a single girl worth a cent, none handsome, agreeable, rich or accomplished . . . they never speak of me without an ill-natured remark and never invite me to their parties.”

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Robert Paschen is a freelance writer living in Columbus, Ohio. Each month throughout

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2012, he will present (614) readers with narratives from Columbus’ 200-year history.

614 Magazine


February 2012



Happy Birthday Columbus!

City’s celebration spreads far and wide


wo hundred years is, at least by American standards, really a rather long time. It’s even more staggering when you think about fitting 200 candles atop a single cake. The upcoming bicentennial celebration is in honor of the February 14, 1812 founding of the city, a compromise by legislators who previously had fought over locating the capital in either Zanesville or Chillicothe. Funny to think of that now. But despite the city’s tumultuous beginnings, it has blossomed into the largest and most prosperous in the state, and there is no shortage of celebration planned in honor of its upcoming milestone.

In fact, more than forty such events have already been planned. The early part of the month is marked by the 165th birthday celebration for the neighborhood of Clintonville to be held at Whetstone Recreation Center (February 2nd, 5 p.m.) and the start of nine days of performances put on by BalletMet as part of their “Jazz Moves Columbus” presentation (visit for information and show times). Some events are big, some small. The main birthday bash, taking place on the 10th in the Battelle Grand Ballroom at the Greater Columbus Convention Center, has ticket prices starting at $125, and will feature all sorts of live performances and organized entertainment ( Too big a hit on the wallet? Well, they’ll be lighting up the Statehouse and the Nationwide building on the same night. And that’s free. Even beyond the actual events, businesses around the city are offering special deals to entice people to get out and be social during this special time. February 11th through the 15th have been dubbed ‘Columbus Days,’ during which locals can present a special flyer (available for free on www.200columbusdays. com) and receive discounts on admission to attractions such as the Columbus Zoo & Aquarium, COSI, and Franklin Park Conservatory, and good deals at retailers like North Market Spices and Wyandotte Winery. The Columbus Blue Jackets will be honoring special ticket pricing during those days, although the birthday game (Feb. 14th) is scheduled against the St. Louis Blues. It’s probably going to be a tough evening. But hey, all the more reason to get out there and cheer. In addition to these highlights, the month will feature art exhibits, documentary premieres, special concerts – even a special State of the City address by Mayor Coleman on February 29th. No one in Columbus should want for things to do in the coming weeks. Happy 200th, Cowtown! – V.R. Bryant For updates and further information on the city’s extensive bicentennial celebration this year, visit

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614 Magazine


February 2012


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ATTN: Travis Hoewischer, Editor-in-Chief, (614) Magazine

FROM: David S. Lewis, Reporter at Large, 2212 RE: To hell with the news tabs


… your minds are corrupt and no one’s yet told you … get ready for sh*t to get weird, and keep in mind, this one’s free, but the next one’s gonna cost you … please reply immediately

{{Begin Transmission}}





I remember you were alive and increasing in mass around the time of the city’s Bicentennial, but I confess I don’t entirely recall how far you lasted beyond 2012, or in fact what exactly claimed you in the end. I feel as though you may have perished shortly after the Great French Fry Plague, but before we eradicated viral diabetes, back around 2080, but that period is fuzzy in my recollection, what with all the gene-swapping stuff that came out around the same time. I hope this missive finds you alive. I miss you, vaguely. In recent months, despite assurances that we both couldn’t and could – and many sensible warnings that we oughtn’t – we have achieved a sort of time-travel here, just in time for the dawning of the city’s Quadrennial. (Yes, I’m still in Columbus, despite stints in Hollywood, Toronto, Nairobi (via canoe), and Queensland. I’ve been alive for nearly 230 years, and I still detest the Australian accent – they all sound like camp counselors. Even American wallabies born in captivity.) I would send you myself, or some other sort of live animal, except the machine – if you can call it that – doesn’t work very well. You’re lucky this isn’t in Morse code. We’re also forbidden to use the damn thing in the first place, an order I was content to obey until I, the very last reporter on the planet, was laid off last week, with a severance package so pitiful it would make a healthy mother retch. Do you remember that time I was stringing for that chain of news tabs in the Aughts, and was fired for telling an advertiser to pleasure my testicles on his way to Hell? Do you remember me breaking the glass doors at his shop with that axe handle, and threatening to steal his skin, before hastily making my way to New York? Things are more polite and saturnine in 2212, and there’s no better way for a man who has won nearly eight Pulitzers to show his bottom to the world than to steal and then manipulate their precious new invention in just exactly the way I was most supposed not to, all to send an old war buddy what amounts to a fart in a bottle from the future. For clarification, I wasn’t exactly “laid off.” The Newstab, which is our monopolic equivalent to the newspapers of your time, has finally decided they can do without reportage from flesh-bearing experts in the craft. This is the final stupidity, resultant of the trends being set back

in your time, with the stinking bloggers and Twittereports, back when “The Internet” was all the rage. (Incidentally, do you folks realize how much money is zipping around the antiquated wires and cables crisscrossing your country? Your great Internet, powered by coal fumes and whatnot? You have the equivalent of a piggy bank covered in pornography powered by a chainsaw motor. What foolishness.) Things are different now. Not how you would have guessed, though. We still don’t have flying cars, at least not in the way we imagined them. I doubt that number ever gets punched. We do have commuter bubbles, but they aren’t worth the bread. Only the wealthy can afford them, and they don’t want them. Sort of like those electric cars you were dabbling with – are those still around? With the batteries? Hee hee …

Out of Work … Again Sorrow, Foam Wars, and Homemade Wine I certainly can’t afford commuter bubbles, and my driver’s license was revoked in 2061, only a few months before my first dehydration. Imagine my fury: a mere pup at 78 years old, still crapping yellow, and they took my wheels. In their defense, it took them some doing just to get the damned thing out of the Iuka Ravine. While the official charge was “driving while unconscious,” I feel safe now confessing to a horrendous bout of meat sweats, and would attribute my road-free driving spree to the salty liquid obscuring my vision. Fair warning: it will become increasingly difficult to find meat that wasn’t grown in a barrel, starting around 2045 – and the artificial stuff never agreed with me. While one might assume my augmented-ambulation privileges would have been restored along with my other certifications after my first reconstitution in 2110, the authorities weren’t so generous. (I was given surprisingly useful equestrian privileges, but you know nothing of the “Horse Columbus” movement the city underwent during the Naturalism period of the early 2100s.) However, it was my own feet that carried me to the Newstab building last week. I took the skyline up to my office on the 82nd floor, pulled out my cloudpad, and prepared to enter the Network, just like any other day, wh! {{When JIm-JIm was impaled by a laserfork at his warehouse, the owners refused to credit his ! account. “I was out of work for a year! My entire ! gastro had to be replaced, and my bondsurance cover it. Thanks to Keenan Kurgis, however, ! didn’t I got my new stomach. My warehouse never had a ! chance!” Have you been injured at work? Keenan ! Kurgis knows the lawcloud, and he knows you. Call Keenan Kurgis, and remember: ! If I don’t get paid, you don’t get paid!}} Aaah! Get out of my damn cloud! Shitty neural advertisements. If you thought marketing was irksome in your time, wait until they give you your implants! I keep accidentally buying stupid sh*t in my sleep. It’s horrible. Anyway, I was plugging my cloudpad into my neckjack, and the first thing that came up was a bright pink field that obscured my entire neural landscape. Six friendly digital rabbits surrounded me, chanting, “Congratulations! You’ve been retired! Please turn in your cloudpass to the front desk, and report to Sanitation for your final scrubdown!” You can imagine the feeling. Hell, this is my third reconstitution, and I’m still paying for the last one. As the world’s last human reporter, I can’t help but feel the media is deliberately shedding the emotion and crucial fallibility that comes of possessing genuine squishy pink matter. In 2212, modern reporting is horribly skewed, having achieved total objectivity. What you would call “artificial intelligence” (the word “intelligence” fell out of popular use in the middle of the 21st century) has developed to the point where everything that needs to be reported is sorted according to the proclivities and interests of the news receiver. I’m sure that sounds horrendous to your primitive brain, and it is, but not for the reasons you would think: nothing slips through the cracks anymore … except the Truth, which is so inherently subjective as to be untenable by mechanized reporters. Also of note, the modern mechanical journalist is programmed to report. Investigative programs have been written, but someone must direct them, as intuition is still relatively exclusive to organics like octopi or us. Enraged, I went to the payroll machine and vended my final check, a paltry $6 million. They’ve been fabricating those damned things with a nearly indestructible clear poly resin for the last twenty years or so. Needless to say, I bloodied my aging elbows considerably while trying to bash it into oblivion. I took the skyline back down to the 62nd floor, to hand my cloudpass over to the Resources Department, but when the clerkbot flashed its eyelights at me, I sensed I was being mocked. 614 Magazine


Singularities and Synths: A Brief and Chaotic History of Modern Technology I’ve never cared for the damned synthetics. Unlike the science fiction “robots” of your time, the beeping bastards, though intelligent, have failed to mount any kind of meaningful insurrection. The closest thing to a “Singularity” came in 2091 at Kodak’s Ferry, where a bunch of maintbots gathered, seemingly of their own accord, and lashed out at Apple with some truly awful poetry. It was later revealed that the whole thing had been an elaborate prank programmed by the eccentric genius Melindabilliun Gates, but her involvement wasn’t revealed until well after citizens had preemptively beaten thousands of synthetics to smithers, fearing some sort of impending uprising, or at least widespread mechanical sarcasm. That purge was one of the highlights of the century, second only to the Mayan Irony. My ancient and respectable craft has been reduced to the electromumblings of glorified calculators. The Newstab has an utter and sanctioned, even protected, stranglehold on the purveyance of information in the public good. Freedom of speech died, for all practical purposes, with the implementation of the Social Correctness Acts late in your century, although the disease that killed it was birthed in your time, fostered by the artificial individualism borne of stupid advances in already useless technology. I was called a “primitive” for choosing dehydration over neutralization, an end-of-life procedure that has been ceaselessly in vogue since Asia dropped. Occasionally, I hear of dehydrators yet extant in Africa, but to my knowledge, I am the practice’s only Western apologist. For a short time I was a popular guest on the neurocasts as an advocate of dehydrator culture, but by the time of my second reconstitution, the practice had fallen completely out of favor. In fact, I was renewed the second time against my volition: A notorious duck, a mutant of sorts escaped from a Gene Zoo, was terrorizing the Confluence. Several aquaculturists had been horribly billed to death, and firearms hadn’t been manufactured in over a century, when someone remembered that I had been dried out with my shotgun in the chamber with me. The hunt for the massive beast was neurocast all over the world, and when I finally dropped the hammer on the avian nightmare, schools were closed, as the children couldn’t stop crying. No one knew the neurowave generators would replicate the noise so loudly; the extinct frequency of a firearm simply hadn’t been programmed into the filters. Aquaculture became a much bigger scene when they finally got all those roadblocks off the Scioto River, those pesky low-head dams and other riverine obstructions. The original idea, as I recall, was to allow for kayak-based commuting, and led by one of your writers, Sir Steven Croyle. He became an icon, albeit briefly, when he led a renegade flotilla of hand-paddled boats to the Lower Dam and blew it – and himself – away with an improvised (yet effective) explosive device. He was called an ecoterrorist by some, and deranged by others, but received a posthumous knighting for his bravery and weirdness. A monument depicting his explosion was later erected at the site, although I would imagine he would have found all the colorful fiber optics, topped with bronze replicas of his dismembered limbs, disconcerting and perhaps even tacky. Alan H. Hamwi, a popular Columbus sculptor of the period, was awarded the contract for the memorial at a time when he was more or less losing his mind; in fact, it was among his final works. Fifty years or so after that, the next big breakthrough in aquaculture occurred when a pharmacist working for Abbott Drugs and Tanning Agents, riddled with cancer, jumped into the river in an attempt to take his own life. Unfortunately for him, river dolphins dragged his dying body to shore. Unfortunately for them, he saw that one had patchy scars all over its skin, and a river dolphin is a small enough animal, and not too difficult to drag to helplessness on the muck beach of the Olentangy River. And so, with the eventual dissection of his savior, the Abbott scientist was able to isolate certain very useful proteins that, when removed from a river dolphin’s endocrinal gland and inserted into a human’s appendix, produced a powerful natural cancer-fighting agent, the popular introduction of which almost immediately led to widespread starvation. We lost most of Africa (again) and China was also much reduced, resulting in the Mattel Boom, in which dolls and foam warfare toys were produced largely in America, our first boost in manufacturing in nearly one hundred years. Equated by historians with the birth of industrial-scale war, the Mattel Boom took advantage of the Second Geneva Convention and converted many of their toys into legitimate foam weaponry (so-called “Nerf Guns”): long-range, high-caliber foam missile launchers. Indeed, those and most of the other developments in warfare throughout the peaceful twenty-second century increased widespread starvation, as well. Luckily, around the time of the Third Geneva Convention, war was done away with entirely, although by then the very idea of combat was limited largely to scattered groups of rebels and freedom fighters. Weary from decades of fighting the powerful, they were finally able to lay down their foam, roll over, and take it like the rest of us.

February 2012



It was good, in a way, and also very silly. Long a history buff, I decided to go to the foams and drown my end-of-career sorrows in reenactment, so I hailed a repticab and set out for Franklinton. The driver was a soulful Mesocan, a wrinkled old immigrant with voice like whalebutter. “Tough day, ji, mister?” he queried. “Just the breaks, hoss,” I replied. “Laid off … again. Replaced by a damn machine. I can’t decide whether to get loaded or hit up a dehydration parlor, check out for a few decades.” He grunted sympathetically and stood the cab up, wheeled us around, and took off for Franklinton at a lope. I gazed out the window, watching the long lizard legs under the chassis, the claws clicking pleasantly on the pavement as the car trotted along. Franklinton, the area of Columbus known as “El Dorado of the Midwest,” was long a blighted area of town, although among the city’s very oldest neighborhoods. It was originally settled by black bears, and later by Indians. Europeans arrived next, and the Indians left, though grudgingly. Your predecessors had to fight off the black bears, but the

ounce of natural gas was safely and profitably extracted from deep beneath the entirely stable surface, Franklinton converted the old stadium into a Circus Maximus of sorts. Nerf reenactments have become my final solace. It’s as close to violent sport as this abrasively peaceful era has to offer. Indeed, as I took my seat, my mind wandered to the vaunted football games of yore. There was a time when the Ohio Stadium, known as the “Horseshoe,” saw armored young men trying to murder each other over a tiny leather ball. The rules escape me, nearly a century after the sport was outlawed, but I remember the excitement, the raw energy. Now, the most enjoyment available to someone like me involves drinking homemade wine smuggled into a Reenactment, hoping desperately that a misguided foam missile won’t knock off any of my favorite face parts. Repeated rehydration leaves the epidermis somewhat brittle. I took my seat and a numbing slurp of my wine, which tasted like acid washed from a cricklepoppers’s back leg. The show, similar to the Wild West shows of your time, is only marginally competitive, instead mostly for entertainment. As the first few periods went by, the soldiers

The driver laid us down at the corner of Goodale and Gallichio Corridor (Corso Lane, it would have been in your day. Or maybe Park Street?) The artificial sky under the Aero-terraces was blue and cloudless, as it had been for weeks; I wondered whether the weather simulator was on the fritz.

ursids enjoyed the last laugh for a very long time, as you had no sooner settled the area than urban blight restored it to a wilderness of its own. I bet nearly a century and a half passed with Franklinton a crime-ridden shadow of its former glory, albeit with some noteworthy attempts to reclaim it. After an enormous reservoir of natural gas was discovered deep below the neighborhood’s crust, however, drilling commenced, and that entire portion of Columbus transformed into a boomtown. The gas was tapped safely, using the Texan “laser diaper” method, and thousands were employed … quite the opposite of what everyone was expecting in your time, as I recall, as the practice of “cracking” or “gas whacking” or whatever you called it was not only bad for an area’s environmental and economical health; the frequent earthquakes found to be the result of the ancient method were enough to convince lawmakers to ban its practice, although not before it caused the Main Street Bridge Disaster, which killed many river dolphins, as well as badly damaging the governor’s mansion. (Thank goodness it was unoccupied at the time.) Those were good days for miners of all kinds; many of them used the opportunity of wealth to educate their children, giving birth to many enlightened statesmen and civic actors, as well as the Franklin Re-enactors, the entertainment spectacle that sent me scurrying to the CooperMeyer Coliseum a this morning, ready for hard drink and foam-missile oblivion. After the ratification of the Third Geneva Convention, many out-of-work former soldiers turned to parlaying their dehumanizing experiences for our entertainment. Although the Conventions were signed nearly seventy years ago, the tradition of watching men and women in drum-tight Spandylon leotards shooting each other with Nerf missile replicas remains a major source of entertainment, and after every


moved with enough grace, and their foams flew true, but I was disconsolate; I couldn’t get my cloud off my troubles. How could they cut me loose, after decades of faithful labor? I sipped my wine and remembered the fonder days of reporting, covering wars foreign and domestic, political scandals. A rather large piece of foam ordnance, roughly two meters long, sailed just over my head, missing my cowboy hat by a matter of inches. I cursed quietly to myself, and noticed a young woman, probably 50 or 60 years old, making her way up the aisle toward me. “Are you David S. Lewis?” she asked, dodging a volley of smaller foams. “That’s the rumor,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the shiny men running around the rubber field. “My benefactor wants to speak with you,” she pressed. “It’s really a very urgent matter.” “I don’t work for the Newstab anymore.” “We know,” she said with a cryptic smile. “That’s why it’s urgent.” I turned to her, finally meeting her eyes. She seemed to be making some sort of important joke. “Who’s your benefactor?” I asked. She handed me a card with an address on it. “Goodale Aero-terraces, eh? Must be some wonderful sort of benefactor,” I said. She winked at me. “You have no idea.” She faded back into the crowd, and I examined the card. Fabricated from high-grade silicate, the graphics were lovely, shimmering and swirling patterns flowing off the edges of the device. If a flat at the exclusive Goodale Aero-terraces wasn’t status symbol enough, the card demonstrated its issuer was someone with a lot of precipitate in his or her cloud. I left the show early, no longer interested in foam. It was raining slightly as I stood on the corner, waiting for 614 Magazine


February 2012


a repticab, but the mist was greenish and purple … good tidings, really. The driver laid us down at the corner of Goodale and Gallichio Corridor (Corso Lane, it would have been in your day. Or maybe Park Street?) The artificial sky under the Aero-terraces was blue and cloudless, as it had been for weeks; I wondered whether the weather simulator was on the fritz. A commuter bubble bounced lazily toward me. I laid the benefactor’s card on its translucent surface, and stepped inside the orifice. The bubble beeped soothingly and bounced twice before floating aloft, toward the massive tower hovering above the park. “Your Commute will take approximately ten minutes,” the bubble cooed at me. “Would you like to hear some music while we drift?” “No, thanks.” The bubble chortled prettily as the interior swelled with Top 400. I groaned and begged for it to be turned down, but the damn things like their tunes, and passengers generally have to listen to whatever their bubble wants to hear. Mine seemed to prefer Two Bubble Garage, a humpback whale band that made it big on local radio. The novelty of sea music was lost on me, as I had chosen to remain happily landlocked after the first flood, but whale music is all the rage now, and Columbus, as in your time, still loves its locals. The Rickenbacker Tragedy, in which all 2,347 residents of Lockbourne died in a flash flood, was spun positively when the resulting lake was artificially salinized, all 600 square kilometers of it, in an attempt to make the area more attractive to cetaceans. The Rickenbacker Sea is the aquatic real estate equivalent of the Goodale Aeroterraces for seafolk. Personally, I wish we’d never invited the damn things into the cloud to begin with.

Strange Medicine and Insufficient Juice

My grumbled thoughts were interrupted when the bubble arrived at the Benefactor’s flat. The bubble let me off on the skywalk, cautioned me against crosswinds, and offered me a complimentary bag of aqua. I declined, and set out toward the Benefactor’s door, a dark, nearly opaque holiscreen covering the entire front of the flat. The holiscreen was blocking view of a massive aerial patio, with smaller portions arranged around the central patio, all hovering midair – the sort of hoverscaping younger people find trendy at two meters, but not five hundred. I watched a couple of gliding squirrels chase each other around, sailing from one segment to the next, darting up and down the pale yucca stalks accenting the exterior.

Behind the patio area, a long, massive door sealed off the entrance to the flat. As I approached, a chipper artificial voice greeted me. “Mr. Lewis, is that you?” “It’s me,” I replied. “Identification confirmed. Please enter and be welcome!” the voice intoned. The massive door slid open soundlessly, and I stepped across the foyer into a great hall, the automatic lights shimmering across the iridescent marble tile, strategically swelling and dimming as I walked across the floor to reveal the room’s recesses and extravagant décor. Ancient statues stood guard, gazing vapidly into the near distance, while art from your time adorned the walls: authentic Jeff Fernengels, an Amber Groome doll, and maybe even a Dassai. “The Benefactor is upstairs in his chambers,” the house reported. “You may take the stairs, or, if you’d prefer, we can summon you a bubble.” 614 Magazine


February 2012


I took the stairs, each step glowing beneath my feet and then dimming as I passed. After climbing for several minutes, I arrived at a mechanical hallway, which carried me even deeper into the cavernous flat, until I arrived at a massive door. The door opened onto an unusual chamber, even for our time. The amphitheatric room was bifurcated by what appeared to be a large black rubber-like curtain. It was almost completely dark, but I was unable to locate the source of what little illumination there was. As my eyes adjusted to the dim, I became aware of a pale shape that seemed to be embedded in an upper corner of the curtain. As I squinted, the shape began to move toward me, until I could make out that it was half of a human figure, seemingly stuck around the waist in the rubbery firmament. The figure was hanging upsidedown, so I couldn’t make out the face, or even gender, of the being in the curtain.


“Hello, Mr. Lewis,” said the creature. “I was sorry to learn of your unemployment.” “Not as sorry as me.” “Indeed. You must be very frustrated. Would you care for something to drink?” I nodded yes, and the Benefactor whisked quickly away to the other far corner of the black rubber. “You like banana juice?” it called. “Sure.” After a moment, it zipped back down to me, empty-handed, still more or less upside down. “I’m discontent, too, you know,” it said. I could now tell that, more or less, the non-juice-bearing entity was a female. She tittered then, a sound like glass being broken prettily. “Very discontent, Mr. Lewis. In fact, you could even say that we have a collaboratively untenable situation.” “Beg pardon?” I asked. “You see, I am very close to something, an alarming discovery of sorts. My own situation is such that, due to several … missteps … I made in the past, my private enterprises have been … compromised. And scary people are about to capitalize on this vulnerability.” I regarded the strange woman hanging a few feet above my head, smiling down sheepishly at me. “I’m not sure I follow,” I said slowly. “It is not necessary that you do. I’m proposing a joint venture that could satisfy my desire for redress and what I presume is your desire for vengeance against those who have thrown you so sadly from the bar, so to speak,” said the Benefactor, emitting another spine-tingling giggle. “I would like to give you the opportunity to exact retribution in precisely the way that would sting the Newstab most.” “Go on.” “As I’m sure you are aware, the Newstab’s zoo-based research and development team has recently made a breakthrough in past-time transmission technology,” she said. “Yeah. I heard all about it. I remember when, nearly two centuries ago, the first researchers sent a particle faster than the speed of light, the very dawning of pasttransmission. Everybody was expecting to see time machines within a few years,” I said. “As I recall, a rather provincial movement sprang up ready to defend our society from Morlocks.” “So you are familiar with this … development?” queried the Benefactor. “Sure,” I said. “They have confirmed the thing works, but it’s under tight security, totally locked down, and its operation is strictly forbidden. They passed that law even before the technology had been fully developed.” “I’m aware,” she tittered. “And we are approaching the Quadrennial of our fair city. How would you like to send a message back to someone involved with the original founding of the city?” “I wasn’t around for that, and therefore know no one from then, but I do remember the grand embarrassment that was the city’s Bicentennial,” I recalled. “Even in those days, Columbus loved itself so much that several people died from sheer elation that year, simply from enjoying the city so much. It was drinking, I believe, that was most directly to blame, but the Bicentennial, secondarily.”

Tai’s Sushi Now Open!

614 Magazine

I took the light rail to what in your time would have been called the “Victorian Village.” The beautiful old homes of your time are all gone, I’m afraid, and the neighborhood has degenerated into one of the few truly seedy areas still left in the city. It’s also, coincidentally, where many of my friends live.

Genesis of a Dubious Quest I walked back outside, and had the parlor call me a bubble. Drifting down toward the city's surface, I opened the envelope, and shook its contents into my hand. There was a small, jagged piece of metal, with teeth and ridges. There was an orange capsule, the liquid of which seemed possessed of a slight glow. Finally, two folded pieces of paper, one marked “Instructions” and the other, “Message.” The “instructions” were chillingly simple. Seek Koko; she has your fax[sic]. Send my Message. Then, do your worst to the Newstab. Good Luck. I re-folded the note and placed it in my pocket, and unfolded the “Message.” To: Bennie From: Bennie, 2212 This is you, but later. You will want to try pot. Don’t. It will make us weird. Love, You (Later) I laughed, wadded the “Message” up and tossed it into a nearby trashbot. After all, we live and die by our choices. I took the light rail1 to what in your time would have been called the “Victorian Village.” The beautiful old homes of your time are all gone, I’m afraid, and the neighborhood has degenerated into one of the few truly seedy areas still left in the city. It’s also, coincidentally, where many of my friends live. One of them, in particular, was a collector of and expert on artifacts of antiquities; I had a sense that he might know something of the nature of the jagged little scrap of metal. If anyone could identify it, it would be Jackie Miranova. I clicked on the vidscreen levving outside his door, glancing around for roving Trolls. It was getting dark, and malcontents were well known to haunt the area. The door opened, and Miranova peered out. “Lewis! Is that you? Are you alone?” he croaked, his small eyes glittering in the dimness of the interior. 1. In your time, “light rail” would have referred to a smallish train. In 2212, it’s something like that, only little more than a bamboo park bench that slides rapidly along a fence, by far the least efficient and most dangerous mode of transportation since wheeled automobiles. In spite of this, the City is still installing hundreds of kilometers more. They are working on the 6-I-6670 loop of the Light Rail even as I write – it’s been under construction, in one form or another, for over 200 years.

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The Benefactor whizzed up to the middle of the ceiling, and then back down with an envelope. “Yes, and as for my needs … you will find all you require in this envelope to accomplish our dual purposes. I assume your full confidence and cooperation?” “If I’m successful, you realize they will hunt me down like a rabid dog,” I said. “There will be no safe place for me within the city walls.” “If you like, you can instead piss away your last few dollars at the Nerf shows. Either way, it’s not exactly as though you have so much going on right now,” she giggled. A fair point. I took the envelope, and gave the Benefactor a nod. “So, a final adventure. Well, this is better than abusing the payroll vender.” She smiled, and limply zipped away, out of sight, calling, “All luck, Mr. Lewis!”


February 2012


614 Magazine


February 2012



“Yes. Let me in.” “Okay,” he said. “Would you care for a steak?” “What kind?” I asked suspiciously. “I’m currently serving several species of reengineered steak,” he said proudly. “Would you care for some simulated yak? It’s my favorite.” “Just pour me a cocktail, and tell me what is in my pocket,” I said. His brow creased thoughtfully as he gassed some whiskey into a tumbler. “Lint? Pebbles? Some sort of religious tract? Have you converted?” he asked. “Jackie. I will show you what’s in my pocket. The guessing need not begin until after,” I sighed, and pulled the metallic object out of my pocket, dropping it into his outstretched hand. “Hmmm. Interesting,” he said. “It’s called a key, designed for granting specific and limited access to a non-intelligent mechanical lock.” “Of course! We had these when I was young. How could I have forgotten what they looked like?” I exclaimed. (We all had keys, in your time, Travis. You had some, too.) “Any idea what it might unlock?” “Well, there is a serial number on it. Let me plug it into the cloud, see what we come up with,” he suggested. “Absolutely not,” I cried. “I am under the impression that, whatever this key unlocks, is some kind of secret, and is meant for my eyes alone. Is there no other way?” He scratched his beard, and powered up his slippers. “There may be a way,” he said. He disappeared into his chamber, reappearing in a minute with what appeared to be some kind of old-fashioned encyclocollator. He set the key on the table, and held the shoebox-shaped device above it. A bright blue beam of light shot out of its underside, flickered over the key’s surface, which glowed green for several seconds after the beam disappeared. The encyclocollator began to whisper. “Humanmade. Brass, steel, nickel. Circa 1994. Unlocks a small mechanical lock protecting a metal (steel) receptacle, custody of which belonged to the “Post Office” (antiquated form of government-run textile communication), in which customer-citizens could receive extracloud goods deliveries for a fee, usually paid in textile currency.” Miranova and I looked at each other. “Can you determine the location of the receptacle now?” he queried the device. “The United States Postal Service was closed down permanently in 2104,” it replied. “This one, in particular, was located at 33 East 4th Avenue (near the Surly Girl Supersaloon) until 2098. While the building remains, undesirable activity in the area has largely prevented its rehabilitation. Much like the area in which you now stand, it is considered a no-man’s-land, populated mainly by energy thieves and gutter trolls.” I stood. “Jackie boy, grab your cyboots. We’re going on a field trip,” I exclaimed. “Absolutely not. It’s low-dark out there. We’ll be killed, or worse,” he protested. “Come on. I’m clouding us a bubble. Hurry and get ready. Steel yourself with some of this homemade wine.” He took a pull out of my proffered flask, and his face seemed to melt for a moment. He disappeared into the back of the house for a moment, and reappeared in cyboots and the hideously shiny garb that passes for adventure wear these days, all sealed up like a Mylar wetsuit. I shook my head. “Let’s go, Bowie,” I chuckled. “Huh?” “Nevermind.”

Wrong Side of the Light Rail The bubble bounced us lazily the several kilometers to the Middle North. As I recall, we hung out in the area quite a bit back in your time, Travis. It looks considerably different now, since they replaced the old High Street pavedway with a canal. Built ostensibly as a highway for the river dolphins that settled Mirror Lake after the University fell apart, most everyone knew it was just another way to selectively segregate an already segregated area. In fact, the deep waterway is colloquially referred to as the “Troll Moat.” While their music is a guilty pleasure for many of the rest of us, and their occasional mainstream accomplishments are lauded as harbingers of improved relations in the coming era, most regular citizens of Columbus are terrified of Trolls. Some of those who live in the less affluent areas of town try to emulate their garb or manner of speaking, but the plain truth is that they are different, and “culturally different” still means “socially frightening,” even in 2212. The bubble drifted over the Canal and suddenly contracted in on us, ever so slightly. Miranova looked nervously around the bubble. The streets were illumi-


614 Magazine


February 2012


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nated by the hovering nightlights, which cast their greenish glow underneath them as they passed overhead. While better areas of town have nightlights that levitate over more or less one spot, there are fewer allotted to the poorer areas, and so they must make a languid orbit, casting eerie shadows over the grey streetscape. Miranova seemed to sense the myriad subversive elements dwelling in these shadows, as the expression on his face was one of barely suppressed panic. “Lewis, are you sure we are going to be alright out here? It’s pretty late.” I ignored him, and signaled the bubble to let us out. We walked along the canal, which smelled of rotted fish and the ghosts of food carts. Much of the area would have been somewhat recognizable to you. The twisted remains of the Skully’s Diner marquee have settled mostly to the concrete, and the ruins of the Jackson are still there, as well. The glass is gone, and much of the concrete has crumbled, but the distinctive shape of the building endured. The post office, however, didn’t fare so well. Sunk in upon itself, the concrete pill box had mostly settled to the basement. I now had a vague recollection of “post office boxes,” and described them as best I could to Miranova as we clambered over the debris. Many of the sections of concrete were huge, and after half an hour of fruitless digging, we realized that the task was all but hopeless: we would need heavy machinery to get into the basement.

“The United States Postal Service was closed down permanently in 2104. While the building remains, undesirable activity in the area has largely prevented its rehabilitation. Much like the area in which you now stand, it is considered a no-man’s-land, populated mainly by energy thieves and gutter trolls.”

“Awful late for you boys to be east of the Canal, ain’t it?” a guttural voice growled from the shadows. I turned as Miranova skittered away across the pile of rubble. “I can’t think of a good time to be east of the Canal,” I replied, searching the shadows for the voice. A nightlight moved slowly overhead, gradually revealing not only the speaker, but several other figures which had apparently gathered soundlessly in the darkness behind us. “You’re pretty funny,” said the yellow eyes glowing in the dim. I couldn’t easily make out details, but than this Troll was larger than most, and certainly larger than us. He seemed well adapted to the shadows, or at least good at remaining in them. “But you’re in my territory. What are you doing here?” I eyed the monster. “I’m looking for something. I have a key to a metal receptacle that is somewhere in this pile of concrete. It’s not mine, but I’m taking it.” He stepped toward us out of the shadows, and Miranova began to shake in fear. The Troll was around seven feet tall, gangly and bent forward. Although lean and sinewy, he probably weighed around two hundred kilograms. His leathery skin slid loosely over his skeleton, as though it had been sewed on as an afterthought. The yellow eyes seemed to search around inside the massive skull for a moment. “I know you … you’re with the Newstab, aren’t you?” “Until this morning,” I said. 614 Magazine


February 2012


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“Your face looked familiar. The Newstab doesn’t pierce our cloud very often down here, but I remember a series you wrote about our folk,” he said. I had written about the Trolls. In fact, I had penned an entire series decrying the overtly discriminatory city planning that had pushed them further and further toward the inhospitable walls of the city, where refuse accrued in drifts and disease was still common. “Fat lot of good it did,” I sneered. “Columbus has enjoyed a very long history of keeping our dark secrets out of the way.” “If anything, you made it all worse, at least for a while. We’ve embraced our localized exile. If you don’t want us, then we don’t want you,” he hissed back. “Life’s hard, and then you dry,” I replied, and readied my brittle bones for a scrap. The Troll looked at me a moment longer, and I held his gaze. “Why do you come to my home, steal from our ruins?” he asked with a snarl, drawing himself up to his full height and inflating the fleshy sack on the back of his neck. “Because I want to stick it to the bastards, too,” I said defiantly. “The Newstab, the City … all of them.” The sack deflated slightly. “What’s in the box you seek?” he asked curiously. “I don’t know.” He looked at me for a few seconds, and then re-inflated his necksack. Cocking his head back, he whistled through a flap of skin on the top of his skull, the sound not dissimilar to the elephants of your time. Suddenly, we were surrounded by Trolls, who stepped out of the darkness and moved toward us silently, rapidly. He looked around at his companions and whistled a singsong melody, which caused all of them to stride toward the pile of rubble. Arriving, they immediately began grabbing enormous chunks of concrete and throwing them effortlessly to the side. A cloud of dust arose around their efforts, glowing like green smoke in the occasional illumination cast by the nightlights. Our liaison walked over to me. “While your efforts didn’t help us, we understand that you were trying to,” he said to me. “I was only doing my job. These mechanical reporters are programmed to report on what’s most important to the city. That isn’t you … at least, not to the rest of the city.” He nodded. “I hope you find what you seek,” he said. “And I hope that, when you have realized your revenge, your enemies' butts fall off.”

Eureka The basement was excavated in less than fifteen minutes, and we eventually found the stacks and stacks of ancient safety deposit boxes. While many of the numbers had rusted away, we were able to make out enough of them to discover the box our key fit. I inserted it into the lockslot. Inside was a poly-based container, containing a hunk of clay with some sort of badge pinned to it, and a textile – paper, that’s what you called it – map entitled, “Zoo Security System.” It seemed to depict a series of lasewire barriers crisscrossing the campus and perimeter of the Columbus Zoo. I scratched my head. Why on Earth would the Benefactor want me to go to the Zoo?

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614 Magazine


February 2012

Zoos are much, much different in my time than they were in yours. As I recall, the animals in 2012 hadn’t even broken the language barrier yet, let alone been trained in any way. I really can’t imagine animals without some sort of occupational skills. It started around the turn of the century (2101, or so) when a Swedish scientist programmed a better squid. This squid was not only better than other squid: she was also better than most humans, at least at data entry. Teaching a squid to type is tough, but after that, it’s all instinct. Other animals followed, with the country's new transportation infrastructure built largely on the backs of greater primates. This led to general unrest between workers of both genii, as human workers resented the outsourcing of their jobs to animals that lived in the same city, and animals wanted greater representation, or at least some kind of compensation. It was a battle fought tooth and claw. At the end of the day, the only winners were the seafolk, whose endeavors were largely confined to the entertainment industry. No one could resist those hideous whale songs. Eventually, the rest of the animals were “officially” enslaved, after a brief and unsuccessful movement to define personhood as belonging to any creature that contributed positively to society. Humans decided that wasn’t |

the case, but many jobs were left to the critters anyway. Their treatment is fairly well regulated, at least compared to the lot cast for those few creatures deemed employable in your time, dairy cows and whatnot. They are well cared for, but they are not paid, nor allowed access to most human facilities. A fuss was mounted, but when wrathful factory workers began attacking animal workers, most of them opted to return to the zoos, which became reservations of a sort. Now, one goes to the zoo both to show one’s offspring a chimpanzee, and to make said chimpanzee do your taxes. The Liaison asked me if I knew what the other object in the poly box was. I shook my head. “That is a plastic explosive, my friend,” he said. “We used to use those to disable the construction machines they used to build the canal. They are extremely powerful … look, there, on the map! I think they want you to place it there.” Upon a closer scrutiny of the map, there was indeed an arrow pointing to what appeared to be a power station labeled, “Place explosive here.” “I’ll be damned,” I said, under my breath. “Koko must live at the Zoo.” I turned to the Liaison. “I must get up north, to the Meta Zoo. Do you know how far away it is? I haven’t been there since covering Provost Coleman VI’s speech at the Housecat Eradication Commemorative. I can’t take a bubble; it would burn too much time, and generate suspicion.” He paused. “I thought we could perhaps be done helping you now. We did move several tons of concrete rubble with our large, bare hands, you know.” I looked at him, hoping that the dried leather that makes up my face would permit me an imploring expression. He sighed. “We do have an old Evinrude that you could take up the Canal, but I think you’d have to walk a few kilometers when you got there. Come with me.”

Tuesday feb 14th

As I overtook the edge of Columbus near Riverlea, I could see that the wall passed over the waterway, with around four feet of clearance between the surface of the canal and the bottom of the massive wall. I realized that the opening was just shy of sufficient … the cushion of air on which the boat rode was around six inches, similar to the six inches of the boat’s superstructure I was likely to smash against the bottom of the wall.

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He wasn’t joking when he called the boat “old.” The thing was steered manually, with an old-fashioned facial yoke, and seemingly ran on actual batteries. I wonder how the Trolls made vintage electric – probably burning trash or coal, just like the you monkeys, Travis. The hoverboat’s skirt was made of a weathered and cracked poly of some kind, maybe even nanofiber – clearly a classic hovercraft. Miranova eyed the craft uneasily. “Do you think it will even hold us both?” he asked warily. I shook my head. “No, Jackie boy, I do not expect it will. You’ve been invaluable to me, but I am going to go on ahead alone. You go on back to your flat.” Miranova looked at me sadly for a moment. He then glanced around and immediately hailed a bubble. He was really moving, now; the jerk had begun to bounce away before I even got the antiquated engine started on the old hoverhulk. I waved my thanks to the Trolls, and untied the boat from the makeshift dock. The Liaison called out to me, “Do you go alone, and unarmed, sir?” I replied that I had no weaponry with me. “May these keep you from harm,” he said, tossing me a bag of frozen peas. I waved again, and made my way to the middle of the moat, and aimed the faceyoke North. 614 Magazine


February 2012

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February 2012

The Canal was treacherous. Constructed primarily for underwater use by the cetaceans, I found myself dodging all manner of surface detritus, from 5-meterlong giant carp carcasses floating belly up, to partially submerged trees. Even some of the larger eels caused me to bump uncomfortably around the cockpit when I ran directly over them, although no part of the boat actually touching the surface. As I approached the boundary of the city proper, I wondered whether the wall that enclosed most of the city would extend over the canal, or worse, if there was some sort of checkpoint, but as I overtook the edge of Columbus near Riverlea, I could see that the wall passed over the waterway, with around four feet of clearance between the surface of the canal and the bottom of the massive wall. As I approached, however, I realized that the opening was just shy of sufficient … the cushion of air on which the boat rode was around six inches, similar to the six inches of the boat’s superstructure I was likely to smash against the bottom of the wall. I decided to cut the engine just before I got to the wall, theoretically allowing the boat settle in the water a bit for a few moments so I could drift under. Around twenty feet out, I killed the motor, and the boat splashed down into the water, bobbing on top for a moment before it began to submerge. The stern drifted around toward the North, and I was quite backwards and listing somewhat to the port side as I crossed underneath the wall. I chuckled and congratulated myself on my fast thinking, but the when I pressed the thumb switch, the engine just grunted, and a massive bubble rose to the surface flatulently, like an overfed child adrift in a bathtub. Oh f**k, I thought to myself. I probably could have anticipated something like this. The boat began to sink in earnest, and the current of the canal pressed my head tightly into the face-yoke until I realized that I was more or less stuck on a sinking hoverboat, circa 2177. The water was up to my knees now, and drawing steadily higher up the bulkhead, when suddenly a slick and shiny grey shape slammed over the transom and chittered at me. With my face caught in the yoke, I couldn’t really turn around to see what manner of boarder had taken my vessel, but the creature skittered around to the front portion of the boat. It was a river dolphin. Delightful, I thought to myself. I hope they don’t mind carrion. The aquatic beastie looked me in the eye and seemed to laugh. Its thick pink tongue shot out of its mouth and deactivated the engine safety interlock. Duh. It jammed its snout onto the thumb switch, which grudgingly sputtered to life. Surfacing in a slow and uncontrolled spiral, the hoverboat took the surface with a vengeance, spinning wildly toward the side of the canal. The dolphin screamed in terror, and flopped back overboard, just as I got the face-yoke back under control. “Well, hell. Thank you, you adorable little bastard,” I shouted, and sped upriver, to the North Country, to the Zoo.

No Dippin’ Dots For Me Hannahburg, or “Powell” in your time, was an exclusive suburb on the rise, but after a local newspaper editor’s grandson discovered industrial-grade diamonds while playing in a quarry, the entire Delaware area shot up to national prominence. Now a metropolis rivaling Columbus, Hannahburg is still home to the Meta Zoo, one of the finest in the world, with a paleogenetic collection that, until my revenge, was considered the absolute top tier. Most meta zoos have a stegosaur or two, but the Columbus Meta Zoo (still named after its original host city) boasts nearly 200 square kilometers dedicated to the most exciting flora and fauna of prehistory. Most biologists agree that our re-creations aren’t exactly right on the money … hell, over half the beasts are solar powered, while others, more advanced, regularly infiltrate the cloud while they sleep. That’s not to mention the staggering number of more recently extinct animals that enjoy sanctuary there, from Tasmanian wolves to the last few house cats. The star attraction, of course, is still the baby panda, but I personally was always partial to the plesiosaur tank. I found it relaxing, like camping out next to a frigid Scottish lake. Consulting the map, I hiked for at least four kilometers through the dead of night, finally coming upon a grate concealing the entrance to the access tunnel leading inside the Zoo. Squeezing between the bars, I made my way up the tunnel toward the security center, kicking large curious rats, some the size of small dogs, to the sides of the tunnel as I went. After a while, my eyes became accustomed to the darkness, which was sad for me, as the walls were rather literally covered in banana spiders, an invasive species from the American south that found new territory after bioengineering allowed former corn and soybean farms |

to produce the most exotic of fruits right here in Ohio. The spiders, handsize and bright yellow, have fearsome mandibles with the second most powerful bite of any known arachnid. As the eight-legged monsters drifted overhead in webs thick enough to stop a man in his tracks, I somehow forgot entirely which spider had the first most powerful bite. Finally, I reached the main access door. I had planned for the thing to be locked tight, and was wondering whether I might detonate half of my plastic explosive safely by chucking rocks at it. To my surprise, I found it wide open, and a wizened old black man standing in front of it with a broom. “Hi, there, sir,” I said. “Well, um, howdy there, young man,” he said without a hint of irony. “Shew. It’s too hot to fornicate on Sunday, ain’t it?” “I’m haven’t a clue what that means, but I expect you’re right,” I replied carefully. “I’m just gonna sweep this sh*t out now. Damn spiders all over the place.” I nodded. “I walked all the way up the tunnel. They must feed on the rats.” “Spiders, they sho’ like the heat, I guess.” “You’re sure right about that,” I said. “I’m trying to find the power station that keeps the animals confined so I can blow it up with this plastic explosive. Can you tell me where that’s at?” He studied me for a moment. “You go in here, through this door, and it’s over there to the lef ’,” he said. “You gonna blow it up?” “I’m going to try to. I have to talk to one of the primates, a girl called Koko.” He nodded understandingly. “All right now. All right now. You be careful.” I tipped my cowboy hat to him and slipped inside.

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Hannahburg, or “Powell” in your time, was an exclusive suburb on the rise, but after a local newspaper editor’s grandson discovered industrialgrade diamonds while playing in a quarry, the entire Delaware area shot up to national prominence. Now a metropolis rivaling Columbus, Hannahburg is still home to the Meta Zoo, one of the finest in the world, with a paleogenetic collection that, until my revenge, was considered the absolute top tier.


Never Have I Ever The power station was located exactly as he described it. I picked what I assumed was the most vulnerable part of the machinery, jamming the pliable material into it. I turned the dial on the badge to “5,” and inserted it into the explosive material. It blew up almost immediately. I lay on the ground for a few minutes, checking myself for missing limbs. My jacket and shirt were mostly burnt through, and the hairs on my chest smoldering slightly, but I was largely intact. The machine, however, was not; it seemed to be effectively destroyed. The tunnel began to shake violently, and, for a moment, I feared I had caused an earthquake, until I realized it was probably just a herd of stampeding sauropods startled by the blast. Amid the thunderous footblasts, I heard the wrenching of steel and the distant ‘pop’ of snapping cables. The system was down, and the Beasts were out. I got up and ran down the tunnel. Finding a ladder to the surface, I scrambled up and slipped the manhole cover to the side. I stuck my head up and was immediately smashed back down to the bottom of the shaft by someone’s enormous foot. I climbed back up the ladder, and peeked out more cautiously. I was suddenly glad for the late hour. Seeing the animals slaughtering each other left and right, I couldn’t suppress a shudder at the terror the visitors would have 614 Magazine


February 2012



experienced with a pack of saber-toothed weasels hot on their heels. Carnivores are, for most, more exciting than herbivores, which is one reason why such an unnaturally high concentration of them exist relative to the vegetarians at any zoo. The flip side of this, of course, means that when the lasewire goes down, the walkways run with the blood of the weak. I saw a lumbering ground sloth fleeing from hundreds of tiny two-legged dinosaurs; they swarmed him like ants on an apple. I shivered, and tried to stick to the sides of the path as I sprinted for the primate house. The primates, unlike the rest of the zoo, were mostly still sitting in their cages, even though the doors were open. Monkeys seem to really enjoy paperwork, filing and data entry and whatnot, and they just went about their business as though there wasn’t an Allosaurus snarling at the backend of the building, trying to jam its massive boxy skull into the double doors. I walked past the snapping jaws and found what I was looking for: a spacious office shaped like the inside of a tree, and Koko, orangutan and engineer. She sat quietly at her desk as I walked in, barely looking up at me. Her head was in her hands, and she kept looking nervously at the door, where the enraged roars of the allosaur echoed down the halls. I sat down in front of her. “Heya, Koko. I’m sorry to disturb you at work, but I’m trying to d*ck over the Newstab. I got laid off this morning.” She looked at me and grunted. “Come again?” I asked. She cocked her head, and grunted low, pointing at her mouth. She was trying to tell me something … “What, do you want some food? A banana or something?” I looked around, assuming she was given regular access to such things. She snorted and stuck out her tongue, pointing at it with a long, orange finger. I cocked my head, and she just kept pointing. I looked around sheepishly, and then leaned forward and gently touched her tongue. As I picked myself up from the other side of the room, I wondered whether the impressions of her fingers were a permanent addition to my skull, or if they would eventually go away. Rubbing my bruised face, I swore at her softly. “What the f**k do you want me to do, goddammit?” I hissed. She sighed and grabbed a crayon from a desk drawer. Seizing a piece of paper impatiently, she scrawled, “Eat the pill, stupid.” Ah, yes. I fished the luminescent orange pill from my jacket pocket, and held it up. “This pill? Do you have something for me to drink, something to wash it down with?” She stared at me impatiently for a few moments, reached into her desk, and drew out a can of banana juice.

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February 2012

I ate the pill and chased it with the fruit nectar. My ears popped, and a stream of wax ran down my shoulder – my vision clouded. Koko said, “Apegod, but you’re kind of dumb. I’ve been expecting you.” I blinked a few times … damn monkey was rather attractive, suddenly. She reached across the desk and grabbed my hat, placing it on her own head. “You are here for the fax. Do you have everything else you need? Do you have the Benefactor’s transmission?” she asked. “Yes … er, yes, of course,” I said. “I will need to type it out, however. What exactly is your role in this whole thing?” “I was the lead scientist assigned to the nano-particle hyper accelerator. I did the engineering on the Newstab’s past-transmission device,” she said looking around conspiratorially. “And … I made two.” I stared at her. “Where is it?” I asked. She hooted for a moment. “It’s over in the research wing of the zoo. I thought you would make your entrance somewhat more delicately … you are obviously going to have to escort me there, if you want to make the transmission.” “Escort you?” I inquired.  “Like, an … escort?” She bared her teeth and howled. “No, you naked ape. We have to get over there, and you’ve released every apex predator known to history in a relatively limited area,” she said.  “We are going together.  I know how to work the machine, and you have the transmission.”


Luckily, the Kasich Memorial Primate Research and Development Center was only a couple kilometers from the monkey house. With perfect timing and amazing luck, we might not even be eaten. “About that … do you have a typewriter laying around? I kind of need to rearrange my thoughts,” I said. “Typewriter? Hoot hoot … I don’t know what that is, but there’s a Cloudpad in the same facility. You will just have to dictate the transmission into that.” We slipped down the hall. The allosaurus hadn’t made too much progress in his quest to enter, but was nonetheless still roaring occasionally, and trying to dig the building away with his massive hind feet. When he saw us, he seemed to redouble his efforts, so we didn’t dawdle. “How far away is the research building?” I asked Koko. “It’s over by the old aquarium,” she huffed as she shuffled along. Her short legs were not built for dino-evading sprints, which seemed inevitably in the cards, so we rested frequently, making short dashes between the Meta Zoo’s exhibits. If you thought the Zoo was too large to see in one day in your era, just wait another two hundred years. Luckily, the Kasich Memorial Primate Research and Development Center was only a couple kilometers from the monkey house. With perfect timing and amazing luck, we might not even be eaten. Predators were everywhere – in fact, the best part about being surrounded by a history’s worth of rampaging animals is that, when you cross so many geographical and temporal boundaries, no one is exactly sure who is supposed to eat whom. Near the petting zoo, a massive Siberian tiger saw us and fled caterwauling for no apparent reason whatsoever. A juvenile tyrannosaur, however, stalked us for what seemed like an eternity, until his face was bitten nearly off by some kind of crocodilian. Finally, we arrived at the research facility. Koko produced a security card from somewhere in her fur and waved it in front of the UV sensor; the large poly doors, however, didn’t budge. “You must have hoot hoot haw haw haw when you blew up the huff huff,” she said. “Oh god, I think the pill is wearing off.  I didn’t understand much of that,” I said. “I’m just panting. The idiocapsule should last for at least a week,” she said coyly. I grabbed a trashbot and smashed it against the doors, but the poly had to have been almost an inch thick … no dice. We heard a low snarl behind us. Turning slowly, I saw the Allosaurus about thirty meters away. For a reptile, I couldn’t help but notice how expressive his face was: the big bastard looked almost smug. He lowered his head and opened his jaws, the long conical teeth glimmering beneath the retracted upper lip. I grabbed Koko and pulled her close. “I appreciate your advances,” she squawked, “but now’s hardly the time – ” The allosaur roared deafeningly, and charged. I waited until we could smell the rotting kittenflesh in his nostrils, and shoved Koko viciously away, propelling us to the corners of the entrance. Propelled by over four metric tons of fury and inertia, the dinosaur’s massive skull crashed effortlessly through the poly doors, shattering the entire entranceway. The enraged dinosaur reared his head up to the top of the entranceway, and I saw our chance. “Hurry!” I screamed. “Inside!” We ducked underneath the snapping jaws as the beast thrashed, stuck fast in a doorway for the second time that day, and scurried down the hall. “Apegod in the jungle …” gasped Koko. “That was absurd.” Glancing back, I could see that, while flummoxed for the moment, there was plenty of space for the hissing reptile to make its way inside, so I grabbed Koko’s paw and we ran down the hall. Behind us, we could hear the predator shoving its massive frame through the door. It roared, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. “Haw haw … in here!” shouted Koko, pulling me into one of the facility’s cavernous laboratories.

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February 2012

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Glancing back, I could see that, while flummoxed for the moment, there was plenty of space for the hissing reptile to make its way inside, so I grabbed Koko’s paw and we ran down the hall. Behind us, we could hear the predator shoving its massive frame through the door. It roared, the sound deafening in the enclosed space.

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She led me to a corner of the room enclosed in a large polycarbon cubicle. The door to the cube was locked with a bio-scan device. Koko licked the pad, and the door shot open. “Guess they got the power back on,” I said. “Fat lot of good it will do them.” Inside the cubicle, Koko gestured at a device that looked strangely familiar … “Is that a fax machine?” I asked. “I thought you were joking.” “It’s not just a fax machine,” retorted Koko, clearly peeved. “You see this part? This is where the magic happens.” She pointed at a boxy looking attachment, about the size of a breadbox. Opening a door on the outside, she reached inside and pulled out a gum wrapper. “When you plug this into the Cloud and zap a piece of foil inside, it sends the contents of your outbox to the


recipient of your choice, from anywhere in history after the invention of the fax.” The machine smelled vaguely of popcorn, but who was I to question? I picked up a cloudpad from an adjoining table and began to type furiously. As I wrote, Koko powered up the past-transmission device; when its diodes were blinking to her satisfaction, she walked to the door of the laboratory. “Apelord. Lewis, you better come look at this,” she cried in alarm. “I’m trying to write, here,” I protested. “You won’t be writing for long,” she replied. I joined her at the door, and looked down the hall. The allosaur was on its belly, writhing its way up the hall toward us, a terrifying smirk on its enormous face. I ran back to the cloudpad. Luckily for me, after two hundred years of filing copy, I can achieve a rate of nearly 400 words per minute. 614 Magazine


February 2012


So this was my story. It’s for you, Travis and hopefully, (614). It’s a cautionary tale, of sorts: keep your eye on the media or they will sneak around behind you and jam their dirty fingers in your ear. Trust no one. Expect more whale songs. Dinosaurs are cool, except for this one trying to eat me. Ah, bummer … it just shoved its head in the door. I need to find me and Koko a way out of here. Columbus is still pretty nice, but make sure you enjoy your Bicentennial, as there’s no time like the present. I hear you growling, you big bastard! You want some reporter jerky? I will kill you from the inside! Travis, watch your caloric intake. Say hello to my mother for me. And remember, no matter what, in 2013, don’t

{{END Transmission}}

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Give Them Your Love

One Hundred Years of Hogs A.D. Farrow Co., Oldest Harley dealer in North America turns 100

With Spa Services at Square One

To pay homage to their century in the business, A.D. Farrow has put together some kick-ass events this year to remind Columbus what makes their motorcycles thundering kings of the road. From June 13th to June 23rd, they will begin The American Motorcycle Rally: The Brotherhood of Giving, a non-profit, 7,000-mile cruise. During that time, they will be hosting events around town that will speak to the proud tradition of road warriors everywhere: • A fashion show at The Ohio State University, which will feature signature Harley Davidson gear • A motorcycle giveaway, co-sponsored by Quaker Steak and Lube and Nationwide, where they will be handing out twin black Sportsters. • A rodeo, harnessing the unbridled power of non-steel steeds • A concert in which they are negotiating to secure Kid Rock as the main event • Hometown Throwdown, a UFC fight promotion that’s sure to rattle some chains

By Mark J. Lucas

ornery, adventurous side, and went out on the bikes to ride. She was a risk taker and she ennis Hopper. The Hells Angels. Hunter S. Thompson. was a pretty attractive woman, to boot.” Easy Rider, Altamont and the other black leather-clad pins that dot Harley Davidson’s The dealership landed on West Broad Street in 1941, where it remains to this day, iconic cultural roadmap can all be traced to Ohio, when a century ago, the most in addition to its massive Northstar facility in Sunbury, which opened in 2007. It survived bad-ass biker babe of all-time gripped her husband’s vision and gunned the throttle. largely in part to Lily Farrow’s efforts and the way she embraced the Harley spirit. The The A.D. Farrow Co., hailed as the oldest company was sold to Pat and Al Doerman Harley dealership in America, will celebrate in 1983 and then again in 2002 to its cur“The traditional aspect of Harley Davidson is key. Then its 100th year in business this month (Febrent owners, Bob and Valerie Althoff. In ruary 26th), having spent 88 of those years the last eight years, the company has sold you have the rebelliousness and freedom and a sense in Columbus, where original owner Alfred more Harleys than in the previous 92 years D. Farrow moved the outfit shortly before combined. of community, which is in the DNA of the brand.” his passing. “The past 100 years have all been about That’s when his wife, Lily, took over the maintaining our spirit and the perseverance operation, and became the glue that held the company together. that we’ve had,” Kamerer said. “Iconic brands are usually traditional or innovative. Har“Lily Farrow gets a lot of the credit,” said Doug Kamerer, A.D. Farrow’s Minister of ley is definitely along the lines of tradition. Think about a brand like Tiffany. Are they Culture. “She ran a motorcycle shop while it was just starting out, through the depresinnovative? No, but they’re well known and traditional. If you think about a brand like sion and through WWII, at a time when women didn’t do those kind of things. She’d Apple, it’s not so much about tradition for them. It’s about innovation. The traditional dress up like a lady of the times, and do her thing, but then she’d be hanging out with aspect of Harley Davidson is key. Then you have the rebelliousness and freedom and a mechanics and doing whatever she had to do to get things done. She definitely had an sense of community, which is in the DNA of the brand.”



614 Magazine


February 2012


Aside from being the purveyors of such powerful machines, A.D. Farrow has always had strong ties to the community, which Kamerer says is in keeping with the civic nature of the brand. They’ve contributed greatly to the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure in Columbus, iron ponying up both thousands of dollars and arranging the renowned Thunder Tunnel of enthusiasts. They also host the annual Ohio Fallen Heroes Motorcycle Ride and Rally, honoring our lost men and women over seas, as well as teaching marines about safe riding while on base through their Rider's Edge Safety Course. These programs have helped A.D. Farrow win the Conway Family Business Center “Community Engagement Award”. “You think about all the motorcycle rallies – tens of thousands around the country and one could make the argument that motorcyclists are probably the most interestgetting people on the planet,” says Kamerer. “It’s a brotherhood. You can pull up anywhere with a Harley, and if there are other Harley guys around, they’ll be able to take care of you on the road.” To celebrate their successful 100-year run, A.D. Farrow is setting up a number of events, including a 100th Anniversary party at Bluestone on February 26th. For more information, visit 614 Magazine


February 2012

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Fatal Femmes

the spot. I think that’s one of my best attributes as an athlete. I don’t need an exact stringent plan that someone’s given me. I just need a frame of ideas. I can’t say for sure what’s going to happen, but I know that I’m much more adaptable and a better athlete than [Tate] is. What exactly does your training entail? Is this just like any nine-to-five job? I have two to three practices a day, which are usually an hour and a half to two hours each. My conditioning is an hour, I’ve got wrestling, I’ve got grappling, I have striking and I teach, too. I think the best way to absorb new information is by teaching it. If I can get somebody else to do it effectively, then I feel like I truly understand it. You’re known for ending your fights rather quickly. I’ve had seven fights – four pro and three amateur – and the longest one of all seven was 57 seconds. Wow.

Tate vs. Rousey invades Columbus with fists clenched, hair pulled back

So, this fight coming up … are you going to win? Of course I’m going to win.

Age: 25 Hometown: Olympia, Washington Background: Began wrestling when she was 15 … on the men’s team Why she’s deadly: Current Strikeforce Women’s Bantamweight World Champion


aving spent some years of my life as a bouncer, I’ve seen my fair share of hard asses, but it’s a rare occasion that I happen upon someone with formal training. It’s even rarer an occasion that they’re women, but in the lobby of the Hyatt Regency, I was charged with the task of interviewing two of the most dangerous women on the planet. To pass them on the street, you wouldn’t guess they’d be able to break you in half, but in the ring, it’s a different story. A raised eyebrow was exchanged between my photographer and I when their publicist asked us, “You won’t need them to be around each other for the photo shoot for too long, right?” Barely making eye contact, they staled around the lobby like lionesses defending turf, and rightfully so. On March 3rd at Nationwide Arena, they’ll be battling it out for the women’s bantamweight title in a nationally televised Strikeforce event. The fighters took a break from their training schedules to chat with (614) about their ascent through the sport, the complications of being ladies in a traditionally masculine contest and their strategies to claim the title.

This sport has taken you all over the world, then. I’ve been to over 30 different countries.

Then you’d say your background as an Olympian gives you an edge in this competition? [Tate] started wrestling when she was 15. I was already traveling around the world doing intense international Judo camps. On paper, it looks like she has more experience than I do, but from a practicality standpoint … her performances are so boring that when I’m scouting her matches, I have to take breaks. I can tell by the way that she fights that she’s nowhere near the level that I am. I think she’s overrated in every single way, and that’s probably going to be part of her downfall – her over-estimation of herself. I just feel like I have an accurate high self-esteem.

Miesha Tate

By Mark J. Lucas

How did you get started in the sport? My mom was a world champion in Judo in 1984. She was the first American ever to win the world championship in Judo. I started Judo when I was 11. By 17, I was in my first Olympic team. By 21, I won my Olympic medal, and now I’m 24, fighting for my first world title.

I have a style that a lot of girls aren’t used to, and don’t know how to deal with. I’m much faster paced and I have quicker transitions than most of them are used to dealing with. Most of these girls aren’t Olympic-caliber athletes. They might think they’re prepared, they might think they have more experience, but they really have no idea.

Give me an idea of your background. How did you get into MMA? I started wrestling when I was 15, on the men’s team. I found MMA shortly after that, so I’ve been doing that for about 6 years. If you count my amateur record, I’m 17-3, but as a professional, we typically just count our professional record. Mine is 12-2.

The term “champion” has a lot of weight to it. Do you think this fight is going to go differently than with previous opponents? Ronda’s definitely going to be a test for me. She’s no slouch. She’s done great so far, but she’s pretty desperate in MMA fights to do what she’s been doing, because I feel that she’s only really good at that. She’s got Judo and her arm bar submission. I have the patience to go five five-minute rounds. I don’t know if she does. I’ve been in the championship rounds. I’ve been tested. I’ve had more fights than she has and a longer career in this sport, so I think I’ll have more of a well-rounded edge and more things that I can utilize in a fight that she has yet to come into on her own. What kind of reaction do you get when you tell people that … well, that you professionally kick ass for a living? Sometimes I get a pretty surprised reaction. If I’m on a plane, or something like that and we’re talking about careers, I tell them that I’m a professional athlete, and I figure they assume that I’m a volleyball or tennis player. Then I tell them that I fight for a living and I do mixed martial arts. That’s when I usually get a pretty surprised reaction, but usually they’re intrigued and fascinated.

Ronda Rousey

Age: 24 Hometown: Venice, California Background: Olympic Judo bronze medalist (first American athlete ever to win two Junior medals) Why she’s deadly: Has defeated all her opponents in under 60 seconds

“I have the patience to go five five-minute rounds. I don’t know if she does. I’ve been in the championship rounds. I’ve been tested.”

That’s quite a lot to accomplish by 24 years old. Yeah, well, we have an over-achieving family, so I’m just trying to keep up.

“Her performances are so boring that when I’m scouting her matches, I have to take breaks. I can tell by the way that she fights that she’s nowhere near the level that I am.”

Surely you get some pretty interesting looks at the grocery store if you’re shopping with bruises all over you. Fortunately, I haven’t had a lot of bruising in my face. I don’t generally bruise or get banged up too often, but on occasion, you do get weird looks. People are looking at my boyfriend, like, “Did you beat her?” Sometimes, you just have to explain and they come to terms with it, or they think what they want. It’s just something that you deal with in the sport. I’m always proud to have a black eye. I kind of like to sport it. I very seldom cover them with makeup, because they’re my battle wounds, and part of the work that I put in.

You’ve gotta get pretty bruised up, even just from practicing, right? I’ve got two black eyes right now. I just spent a lot of time covering them up with makeup.

What’s your strategy going into the fight to defend your title? With a wrestling background, I know I’ll be unlike anyone Ronda has fought, and my balance is going to be a lot better. It’s going to be a lot harder for her to utilize her throws. What mostly separates Judo from wrestling is the Gee. They grab it, hold onto it, the friction is different. Wrestling has all the same throws, but we don’t have a Gee. We’re used to hooks, and we can do doubles and singles and things like that. For that reason, I feel wrestling is a better background to have in MMA than Judo. In the men’s division, it’s been wrestlers who’ve dominated the sport. That should help me a lot. She’s dropped [in weight class] and that’ll change the dynamics a bit.

How is it different fighting a woman than a man? Men have a lot more balance in their shoulders. Women have much more of their balance in their hips. Women have stronger legs than men and more flexibility than men, so there’s definitely a different style between them. Women are more difficult to take down than some men are, and more difficult to submit because of their flexibility. They do have other weaknesses, too. Women aren’t as strong, so women’s fighting favors grappling more, in general. Is it off-putting to say you’re a professional fighter to people who don’t know what you do? Usually, they don’t believe me, so I show them my ear. [At this point, Ronda displays her left ear, which has been … altered, due to the nature of her line of work.] Then they have a lot of questions, and I usually oblige them.

Who’s gonna win this fight? Well, me, of course. What a silly question.

Does what you do make it tough for you to date? I think it makes dating easier, because I don’t have to deal with men that are easily intimidated.

Strikeforce: Tate vs. Rousey will take place at Nationwide Arena

What’s your strategy, going into this fight? I leave a lot of things up to improvisation when I’m fighting. There’ve been a lot of fights that I’ve won, where I’ve made up a move that I’ve never done before or trained for before on


614 Magazine


February 2012



614 Magazine


February 2012

(200 W Nationwide Blvd.), March 3rd and will be broadcast live on Showtime. For more, see






I wanted to give back to the community with my time, expertise and support.

By Kimberly Stolz

Visit to view the compelling artwork and learn more about the project.

Rok4ResQ Date: February 11 Time: 7:30 – 11:30 p.m. Admission: $7 Location: Flannagan’s Dublin Web: Rock out for Rover . . . R4R attendees can groove to the tunes of Zancudo, Steven and the Grateful Lovers, the Jeffrey truck Band, the Cellar Hounds and Kingsblood at this benefit for Pet Promise, Inc., a network of dedicated volunteers that care for homeless companion animals. Dick and Jane Project CD Release Date: February 23 Time: 7 p.m. Location: Gateway Film Center, 1550 N High St. Web:


RISING TO THE CHALLENGE Artists collaborate to increase bullying awareness By Erin Norris

was going through.” Their relationship has been an inspiration for Regula as well, whose novel A Heart Wants What it Wants is loosely based on her mentorship of Richmond. efore the suicides began to amass, before the young faces of the deceased flashed The impetus for You Will Rise was a rejected submission to a community outlike a grim slideshow on the evening news, before dozens of grieving parents and reach program. “I had heard about a group that used tax dollars to fight bullying in educators testified before Congress, bullying was largely excused as an innocuschools, and they were looking for an image to use as their poster,” said Regula, who ous childhood ritual. The offenders were even romanticized in pop culture by brutish submitted a painting of a figure surrounded by words such as faggot and fatty. “They half-wits like Roger Klotz or Nelson Muntz, but the antiquated perception of bullying as responded that it was too bold. They didn’t like the mean words and they didn’t want harmless teasing has been shattered by the sad reality of its consequences. to offend anybody.” Frustrated, she phoned Richmond, and the two began making In April, local artist Paul Richmond and his plans to create a forum that dealt with bullying longtime mentor Linda Regula launched the You in an honest, uncensored manner. “We don’t Will Rise Project, a website dedicated to showcensor or correct our submissions, because the “A big aspect of bullying is that the bully casing the artwork of bullying victims. Submismost important thing is giving the victims their wants you to feel helpless and silenced. So sions range from paintings to poetry, each piece a own public voice,” Richmond said. deeply personal and unique representation of the So far, the website has experienced heavy trafwe want to empower the victims and let victim’s experience. fic and submissions from people of all ages. “We’re “A big aspect of bullying is that the bully wants really amazed by the amount of people that we’ve them use their creativity to speak out.” you to feel helpless and silenced,” said Richmond. been able to reach and connect with,” said Rich“So we want to empower the victims and let them mond. “Already we’ve heard from people who use their creativity to speak out.” said that it really mattered to share their work and Richmond began taking painting classes with Regula at the age of three, and the pair their pain with others.” developed a bond over their similar experiences with bullying. “I was gay, although I didn’t One of the earliest submissions was from Adam Crum, a local artist who included know it yet, but there was definitely something different about me, and the kids picked up photos of his striking paintings and wrote: “These are all murals that are located around on that,” recalled Richmond. Regula came from an impoverished family in Appalachian the city of Columbus, Ohio. These and hundreds of my other paintings would not exist West Virginia, and was often the subject of violent teasing. “There were nine of us living in if my parents hadn’t found me after I attempted suicide.” a three-room shack, and my mother ran off when I was young, so I was skinny and poor Some submissions come from friends and family, such as a letter from the best friend and motherless,” she said. “The kids at my school really tormented me about it.” of a suicide victim titled “Dear Steven.” Richmond maintains that Regula’s guidance and encouragement of his artwork was an “Our primary focus is to display work by bullying victims. However, there are so invaluable gift. “It made such a difference in my life to have a mentor like Linda,” Richmany complex layers to this situation and so many perspectives that we want to open it mond explained. “She was always in my corner and she never talked down to me. I saw how up to everyone who has a connection,” said Richmond. “It really adds to the richness of she brought out her personal narrative in her artwork, and she helped me channel what I the site and makes it relevant for more people.”



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February 2012


The Dick & Jane Project, a unique non-profit that unites young people (ages 10-14) and professional musicians in songwriting, will release “Orientation”, a compilation of four of the songs created during the organization’s first year. The event will include an hour-long presentation about the DJP, as well as videos and a brief history of the creation of each song. Sixty copies of the CD will be available – 50 of them in exchange for a $100 donation, and another 10 raffled off throughout the evening. Additionally, a digital version will be available through our website for a minimum donation of $5. Seating is limited. To reserve a spot, e-mail Executive Director Ben Shinabery, at Bring Up the Lights! CATCO-Phoenix Gala 2012 Date: February 25 Time: 5:30 p.m. Admission: Act One only $50, Full Gala $200 Location: Franklin Park Conservatory Web: Enjoy a celebrity-style evening – complete with flashing bulbs on the red carpet and catered delicacies. From hors d’oeuvres in the Palm House to dinner in the Grand Atrium, Bring Up the Lights! takes full advantage of the Conservatory’s stellar

The Earned Income Tax Coalition brought resources and people together. Volunteers got involved. Families saved their hard-earned money.

setting, all the while celebrating the impact that CATCO-Phoenix Theatre has on the local community. Act One includes cocktails and a silent auction, while the Gala admission includes Act One plus Act Two events, dinner, the unveiling of the 2012/13 season and dessert.

Millions of dollars returned to the community. And that helps all of us.

Comics for A Cure Date: February 25 Time: 7 p.m. Admission: $20-$30 Location: The Strand Theatre, Delaware Web: “The only fight against cancer you can laugh at!” This annual event draws hundreds to the historical Strand Theatre in Delaware. Inspired by his mother’s fight with cancer, comedian Jeff Robinson has been putting his talent to good use ever since. This year, the lineup once again features Tom Foss, a veteran of the Comics on Duty tour performing for troops in Iraq, Afghanistan and Kuwait. Joining him will be Mike Conley out of Akron and QFM96 morning show producer/personality Dan Orr. Proceeds benefit the American Cancer Society. Get Your Game On: Trivia Night to support Ohio CASA Date: March 1 Time: Registration at 5:30 p.m., trivia at 6 p.m. Admission: $10 per person, up to 4 people per team Location: King Avenue 5 Web: Trivia nights are a blast – showing off your in-depth knowledge of obscure short films or prog rock always makes for a night to remember. What makes such an eve even better is flexing your brain muscles for a good cause – the Ohio CASA program. In support of the local group that educates and trains volunteer court-appointed special advocates and guardian ad litems for youth, the Ohio CASA event hosted by local trivia king TeamTim will feature free snacks, drink specials, auctions and off-the-wall factoids galore.

When you give to United Way of Central Ohio, you make a real difference in our community. Because at United Way of Central Ohio, we focus on the four basic building blocks of a better life: Education, Income, Health and Home. We do it because helping in one area has an impact on all areas. We do it because it’s the most effective way to change people’s lives. And we do it to strengthen our community and make it a better place – for all of us.

Join us. Give at your workplace, or online at

Let (614) Magazine assist your charity by listing your event on our monthly charity calendar. Email with event information along with the contact name and number.

614 Magazine


February 2012




Pretty in Powell W

hen Jim Palavin bought his Cook Road home in Powell 11 years ago, the decor was much more Brady Bunch than Modern Family. “It was right out of the 1970s,” said Palavin, who, along with his wife Yolanda Zepeda, has spent the past decade eviscerating old dark-stained cabinets, ceiling beams and fixtures and replacing them with lighter, more modern fare. The three-bedroom, three-bath home sits on five acres overlooking a creek and a densely wooded area that stretches back as far as the eye can see – quite a change in lifestyle for Palavin, who moved to Powell after a long stint in the tightly packed Victorian Village. “We have everything we need up here,” he said of the home’s isolated location, which is about a 30 minute drive north of central Columbus. “We’ve got a Walgreens five minutes away and a golf course seven minutes away. It’s all I need.” Palavin, the son of a contractor and friend of several more, said he was able to complete about 80 percent of the work on his own, which included the addition of a bar, a master bath converted from a spare bedroom, and additional countertop space in the kitchen. He was also able to clear a small wooded deer path immediately behind the house to create a perennial garden, a favorite pastime of the couple. Today, with just a guest bathroom yet to be completed, Palavin says the decade of hard work – including his wife’s interior decorating – has finally paid off. “It’s time and money. Time and money. We’re going to be here for a while.” – Scott Woods


Do you live in a stylish or distinctive crib? Send us a photo and brief description of your place to be featured in next month’s Cribs...


614 Magazine


February 2012


614 Magazine


February 2012



Audacious BOUTIQUE

Fashionable Jewelry and Accessories in the heart of Dublin



etreat Salon and Day Spa

4635 Dublin Granville Rd. Dublin, OH 43017 614-799-6951

Do you have a favorite band? Music has always played a huge part in my life. My mom actually turned me onto many of my favorite bands and musicians, from Bruce Springsteen to the Rolling Stones to Bob Dylan. If you didn’t own a boutique, what would you be doing? In a fantasy world, I would be a rock star.


Maren Roth’s love for fashion began at the early age of five when she visited New York City for the first time with her parents. “I got to see Cats and put on my little velvet dress with my pearls – and I got my first fur coat,” Roth said. Years later, the fashionista is now the proud owner of Rowe Boutique in the Short North. After graduating, Roth put her skill set to good use. The Wisconsin native moved to New York and immediately started working for prestigious fashion PR firms. She was then offered a position as Director of Public Relations for Simon Showroom and began working on designer accounts like Paul & Joe, Mimi and Coco and Lauren Moffatt, to name a few. After much hard work and dedication, her love and commitment to fashion were finally paying off. And as her experiences grew, so did her clientele. Yearning to be closer to home and family, Roth decided to move from the big city, bringing her New York fashion element to Columbus. Though not completely ready to open up shop upon moving to town, Roth hosted trunk shows wherever she could and eventually gained a faithful clientele that allowed her to establish a permanent location. With Rowe now in full swing, today the fashion guru also donates her time to raising money for lung cancer research in memory of her father Jack Roth who died of lung cancer a few years ago.

Dublin’s Finest Getaway Day Spa

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Authentic Greek Food in Columbus!

Who is your favorite designer? Yves Saint Laurent. What’s your favorite thing to do in Columbus? On a weekday night, I love to sit at the bar at either Basi or Rigsby’s and have a bite to eat and a glass of wine with a friend or go see live music. Sundays are my days off, so typically I am either stopping by the store to see what’s going on or grabbing Bloody Marys with my girlfriends. How would you describe your style? I have a Bohemian style with a classic American twist. I love blazers, classic button downs and maxi skirts. I love a drapey, flowy feel – think Stevie Nicks, circa 1978. Stuck on “Fashion Island,” what are four things you would take with you? My dogs, my family, a great pair of sunnies and music. – Erica Zurmehly Shot on location at Rowe Boutique, 718 N High St.



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February 2012


Roth is pictured wearing a top and shorts by Lauren Moffatt and shoes by Matt Bernson

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February 2012



MODELS (from left to right)

Dapper Du Jour

On Maxwell Wings + Horn denim, $195, Wings + Horn button down, $165, Woolrich Woolen Mills jacket, $550 and Rag & Bone tie, $125 at Brigade Brixton fedora, $56 at Ladybird On Nicole Joie skirt, $326, Urban Behavior blouse, $68 and Matt Bernson shoes, $228 at Rowe On Christy Susana Monaco dress, $287 and Yochi necklace, $60 at Rowe Merona gloves, $19.99 at Target

Like fine wine, some things are better vintage. This season’s sultry winter looks

On Andrew BLK DNM, $160, G-Star Raw button-up, $100, G-Star Raw cardigan, $145 Woolrich Woolen Mills jacket, $695 and Rings & Algebra bowtie, $60 at Brigade

are no exception. Silk, fur and tweed provide plush and posh, while hues of emerald green and deep burgundy seal the drama. Accents like leather gloves, skinny ties and fedoras bring the 1960s

Photography Adam Lowe Photography Styling Erika Dellatorre Erica Zurmehly

just within reach while keeping your look mad for modern day.

Hair and Makeup Stephanie Mahone Lauren Fogarty Studio Elements 1637 Northwest Blvd. (614) 579-1744 Models Christy Lewis Nicole Buck Andrew Krebs Maxwell Woods Courtesy of Heyman Talent Clothing & Accessories Rowe 718 N High St. (614) 299-7693 Ladybird 716 N High St. (614) 298-8133 Brigade 607 N High St. (614) 228-0700 Shot on Location Third & Hollywood 1433 W Third Ave. (614) 488-0303


614 Magazine 614 Magazine | February | 2012 February | 2012 |

614 Magazine


February 2012





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Fantastic Italian Village/Short North home, wood floors, large rooms, decorative fireplaces w/nice mantles, front and back stairs, excellent kitchen w/ large open entertainment space, 1st floor family room, upstairs laundry, 2+ car garage w/ loft space above! $299,900 Bruce Dooley, CRS 614.297.8600

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February 2012


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What You Missed

The lineup FEBRUARY

PHOTOs BY Ben Yoder

(614)'s Restaurant Week Columbus Sponsors & Community Partners: Maker's Mark,, FoodCity,, Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams, Whole Foods Market 速, WOW!, Sunny 95, Experience Columbus, Short North Business Association & OpenTable Benefitting the Mid-Ohio Foodbank

Congratulations to Emily Stonebrook [and her husband Chad] who won Faveroo's Ultimate Restaurant Week Columbus Giveaway! Their loot included dinner for 4 at 5 Restaurant Week Columbus restaurants, a $250 Whole Foods Market 速 gift card and 3 months of Jeni's Ice Creams. Yum!


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February 2012


614 Magazine


February 2012






A Complete Hipstory T

his month, we celebrate the 200th anniversary of our city’s founding on Valentine’s Day in 1812. Honestly? Valentine’s Day? It seems our city was created by Hallmark as an excuse for men to buy women candy and flowers. Many transplants to the city are not aware of the tale of its founding, but natives like myself were told the story every year in class, right after we gave little paper cards to our classmates. You see, years ago, in Europe, our ancestors belonged to an oppressed minority group that was not allowed to practice its beliefs openly. Throughout the continent, they were badgered and institutionally marginalized by various hegemonic cultures, so our forefathers set sail to America in search of a home where they could live life the way they envisioned it could always be. And with that, the Hipsters of Europe set sail across the Atlantic to carve out their niche of the American Dream. They landed in New York, but as too many people had already heard of it, they continued west. Passing Philadelphia (which, unfortunately, people had also heard of) they marched on, a grand caravan of fixed gear bicycles and economy wagons, adorned with left-leaning political carvings and pulled by organic, free-range horses. The first winter was harsh. Many died on the trek, due to their insistence on wearing tight fitting clothes in the freezing temperatures – the cer- emonial Hipster garb. All that changed when a Hungarian Hipster by the name of Adel Ragarama designed the first intentionally unattractive cable-knit sweaters, which according to Hipster tradition, were considered “okay, I guess” by the elders. Starvation was rampant, as in this brave new world of Ohio, there were not yet any Trader Joe’s stores established. Fortunately, one Cornelius Lessner, ancestor to our city’s own Liz Lessner, discovered that they could survive by consuming lentils with cayenne pepper, which satisfied the Hipster’s vegan dietary restrictions and were considered by most to be “alright” when served with craft beer. In January, whilst attempting to find a Great Lake that no one had heard of, the Hipsters were thrown off course by wind blowing their hair into their eyes and breath fogging up their oversized black glasses. Because the wind had blown hair over only one of each of their eyes, they found themselves moving in a spiral pattern, until they wound up at the confluence of two large rivers, the Scioto and the Olentangy. After a few weeks of not seeing anyone at all, they decided this location was sufficiently obscure, and they dubbed it Columbus, due to the irony of naming a land-locked area after a famous sailor who had never been there before. At the groundbreaking ceremony, the first mayor gave a riveting and timeless speech about the new home they had discovered. “Whatever,” he said, irreverently. The fledgling city began building its infrastructure. Their chief industries were vinyl records, graphic design and blogging, which caused them to lag behind economically, as the devices on which to carry out these trades hadn’t been invented yet. They turned to selling coffee, which they sold in oversized cups to frontiersmen heading west to Portland, Seattle and San Francisco. Days were spent toiling, evenings were spent listening to local bands and drinking PBR. Two hundred years after the fact, we still live by the same traditions on which the city was founded . . . Nah, I’m just f**king with you. Actually, the real story is much more interesting. This city was built by Irish and German laborers. The government decided the capital should be here, because the location was in the middle of the state, near two major rivers. There

wasn’t even really a city to speak of when that happened. Ohio, in general, was nothing but a giant forest. My grandfather told me that people used to say a squirrel could go from the Ohio River to Lake Erie without touching the ground. Ironically, everything was named after the Native Americans who were displaced. We went through ups and we went through downs. Sometimes it was a struggle; sometimes it was a time to enjoy good fortune. OSU was a farming school and eventually got bigger, drawing in people from all over the world to study everything from dance to engineering. Turns out, corn-fed Ohioans were particularly good at a little sport called football, which was our major form of entertainment for a long time, and probably the reason the sport is so popular here. A guy opened up a chain of grocery stores and eventually grew it into a Fortune 500 company. A bunch of farmers who wanted to insure other farmers created a national empire that became the face of an entire district of our city. With a couple thousand dollars, a Bexley native started a global fashion imprint. A guy from a farm town in one of our northern suburbs became one of the best golfers in the world. A dedicated zoologist from Tennessee help make the Columbus Zoo one of the best zoos in the world, and a local orphan started an international fast food chain and became an advertising icon. A south-ender like me started a popular national pizza chain. And, at some point, all of them have given big. Real big. In the 1980s, most of this city was in rough shape. German Village and the Short North were considered seedy parts of town. Then some folks, mostly from the gay community, decided that all the old architecture was too nice to just sit there, so they rolled up their sleeves and polished up everything in sight. Local businesses began to thrive. The mood began to shift. In the 1990s, the change became clear. Powered by the upturning economy, we prospered. People from all over the world began to come here again, either to study at our top-notch universities, to enjoy our progressive environment or to soak in our nightlife, chock full of premium entertainment. When stumbling blocks revealed themselves, they were overcome. When challenges arose, they were dealt with. When problems sprung up, they were solved. Is it perfect? No. But if there’s a chance for any city in the country to get there, I’m pretty sure it’s this one. There’s just something about this place that makes people put their chips on it. There’s something about the creativity in how we develop that inspires. We’ve probably got some of the worst weather in the free world, and folks here just throw on a heavier coat and get right down to business. Huddling in warm spots and talking things out during miserable weather is probably a big factor in why we come up with so many ideas. The story of this town over the last 200 years is a tale that is, at its core, innately human. There were humble beginnings. There was strife. There was some embarrassment, all mixed in with virtue. Flaws and accolades, and guess what? We’re coming out on top. I was born here, and I’ve seen it grow over the last 28 years. We didn’t go the way of the dodo. We didn’t throw in the towel. We didn’t fall off, like so many other cities in our situation. We gathered what resources we had at our disposal and we threw together a way to make things awesome. I couldn’t be more proud to call this my home. Happy Valentine’s Day. We certainly have enough heart to go around.

“The Hipsters were thrown off course by wind blowing their hair into their eyes and breath fogging up their oversized black glasses.”

614 Magazine


February 2012


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gaMe nigHt LocaLS nigHt - LDu KaraoKe nigHt LocaL BrewS & Booze groovy tiMeS!



You’re invited to come and taste affordable, world-class cooking.

inDuStry nigHt



Monday – Saturday, 11:00am – 3:00pm


Happy Hour Mon-Fri 5-9

W W W. R I G s b Y s k I T C H E N . C O M

913 n. HigH Street


614 Magazine


February 2012


698 N. HigH Street


PURE JOY FROM ITALY 100% MOSCATO Sparkling with life. Full with flavor. The result of handpicked Moscato Bianco grapes. D.O.C.G., Italy’s highest quality rating. Every sip a celebration. Enjoy MARTINI® Asti chilled in a flute, or with your favorite juice.


(614) Magazine  

February 2012

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