Web Exclusives

And They're Off...

Justin Williams — Mon, 06 May 2013 15:39:00 GMT

In the end, Orb crossed the finish line first, the field favorite winning the 139th running of the Kentucky Derby in just over two minutes’ time. Mud caked the horse and his jockey, Joel Rosario, who rode the young colt to victory for trainer Shug McGaughey and the Phipps family owners (cousins Ogden Mills Phipps and Stuart Janney III) on a day that saw steady rainfall and very little else. Despite their prominence in the horseracing industry, Orb's triumph on Saturday was the first Derby victory for both parties, a fact that was obvious on their faces in the post-race press conference. Taking the Triple Crown is the sport's only higher achievement, and that can't be done unless you win the Derby first. For these men, who have devoted decades upon decades to this very honor—this two-minute stretch that ultimately occurs while they stand and watch—there is no greater joy.

And yet, the Derby is not theirs to have. Nor is it the horse's, nor the young Dominican jockey's. They are all merely an endnote to something much bigger, an event that belongs to so many more.

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This past weekend was my first time covering and attending the Kentucky Derby, having missed out on all 138 previous opportunities (in a manner of speaking). I've watched the Derby on television in years past, giving it the same amount of thought I give to Labor Day or Earth Day or any other annual occurrence that is largely relevant for only 24 hours. It’s nothing against the Derby, just that my interest in horse racing overall is casual at best. I knew it only as a brief flash across my TV screen, conquered by an animal victor who was even more oblivious to the feat than I was.

But when I arrived at Churchill Downs on Saturday, some eight or so hours before the race was set to begin, I was finally enlightened to what those 120 seconds of television are unable to convey. My eyes were opened: To the hordes of people who descend upon Louisville donning extravagant suits, whiplash-inducing cocktail dresses, ridiculous hats—oh, dear God, the hats!—and every pastel-colored clothing accessory on the face of the earth. To the smoking, drinking, and revelry, a yearly re-creation of Sodom and Gomorrah. To the incessant gambling, as attendees plop down piles of cash into tiny windows in exchange for tinier slips of paper, gleefully staking their money on a sport most of them know next-to-nothing about. It's the world's fanciest, most grandiose frat party. I kept expecting Jay Gatsby to come strolling out on a balcony overlooking the proceedings, flashing a wry smirk and looking an awful lot like Leonardo DiCaprio. The entire spectacle was unlike anything I have ever experienced. And in so many ways, it was absolutely beautiful.

The range of people in attendance enthralled me the most. Every age, race, ethnicity, and socioeconomic class is represented. There are those who brave the infield, even in a downpour, the hillbillies and ne'er-do-wells uniformed in ponchos and camping out in tents, sucking cheap beer from an infinite supply of aluminum cans. The stories of those who congregate inside the third turn are debauched and epic; tales of drugs and nudity and orgies, all told without a hint of exaggeration. As one Derby frequenter told me, “You wouldn't want to take your date there.”

There are those on the outside of the track as well, four or five stories above the flooded soil, looking down on the races from their exclusive boxes. Or perhaps they are still behind the floor-to-ceiling windows, placing bets and perusing the buffet, making sure not to spill anything on an outfit that cost more than what the guy on the grass paid for his house. This building—with floor upon floor of ballrooms, white tablecloths, and viewing areas that span the homestretch—is called Millionaires Row, where everyone undoubtedly lives up to the moniker. And that's not even the owners' area, which hovers just below, where you could throw a rock and have it bounce off a billion dollars worth of human flesh and tailored suits.

And then there are those surrounding the paddock and traversing the concourse, sporting wardrobes that are lesser only in cost but never in flash. The overall variety is incredible. For every drunken pair of college kids making out in the corner, there is a filthy rich entrepreneur with his arm draped around a woman in a dress she's far too old to be wearing. For every middle-class guy drinking an $11 mint julep that isn't worth the plastic cup it's poured in, there is a silver-spooned 20-something drinking Stella Artois from a glass, smoking a cigar the size of a flashlight, and screaming into his iPhone, “Let's chill later, bro.” For every Joe Schmo betting $2 on a horse purely because he likes the name, there is a Richie Rich throwing down two grand for the same reason. It's a random and diverse collection of people, all of whom are there to do the exact same thing: dress up, drink booze, smoke cigars, and win some money. They don't come for the Kentucky Derby because it’s a race. They come for the Kentucky Derby because it’s an event. And they're all experiencing it right there together, separated only by their bank accounts.

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Orb's run was majestic. The horse drifted toward the back for the first half of the race, waiting until the third turn to really start his push, using the fourth and final turn to propel himself to the front of the fray. He was 2 1/2 lengths ahead of Golden Soul as he crossed the finish line, though it felt like no one ever would have caught him, even had the race continued on into eternity.

There were no David & Goliath heroics at the Run for the Roses. Orb eventually settled at 5-to-1 odds to win, the most popular choice among those laying cash. And in the end, the favorite proved victorious, starting the race as the strongest horse and finishing in the same fashion.

Shug McGaughey and the Phipps family—a few very wealthy horse racers—were finally winners. But so too were thousands of others at Churchill Downs on that day, from the Armani-wearing stockbrokers on Millionaires Row, to the poncho-wearing locals clutching rain-soaked tickets in their hands. Their journeys and winnings were all vastly different. Their joy, however, was exactly the same.

Unsolved Mysteries: Reptiles in Residence

Gin A. Ando — Thu, 28 Mar 2013 11:00:00 GMT

We had too many mysteries to fit in the April 2013 issue--so enjoy this bonus tale.

Some 60 years ago, a handful of Italians emigrated from Lake Garda, outside of Milan, to East Walnut Hills. Now the family spans generations, with thousands of descendants. But after all this time, they’re still mostly east-siders.

The immigrants in question are unique—so much so, they’ve been given their own special name: the Lazarus Lizards. Known everywhere else as European wall lizards, they were “imported” by George Rau, a member of the Lazarus family. As a kid, Rau smuggled the reptiles to Cincinnati after a vacation and released them in the backyard of his east side home. Today Lazarus lizard population density reaches up to 1,000 per acre in parts of Walnut Hills, Hyde Park, and Mt. Lookout, and they’ve spread as far east as Milford. The west side? Not so much.

Does that mean the west side is fundamentally inhospitable to them? Or that the animals have inherited their adopted city’s neighborhood snobbery?

Neither, according to Ken Petren, an associate professor of biological sciences at the University of Cincinnati. Petren and his students have a website where people can report sightings, and they’ve identified pockets well outside the lizards’ eastern epicenter. Petren believes this happens when a lizardnapper impulsively collects specimens from one locale and then releases them miles away. But a slow, steady, natural migration west is also underway. “At some point in the future, they will cover North America,” Petren says. But at the moment, Petren says, Lazarus lizards don’t stray too far from the rocky banks of the Ohio the farther west they go.

Apparently they want a river view. Just like the rest of us.

Unsolved Mysteries: Vera Ava’s Final Days

Linda Vaccariello — Thu, 28 Mar 2013 11:00:00 GMT

We had too many mysteries to fit in the April 2013 issue--so enjoy this bonus tale.

Sure, grifters are a dime a dozen. But our town hosted one of the biggest. And she may still be here, tucked away in a pauper’s grave.

In September of 1891, a disheveled, barefoot woman attempted to lodge at the Gibson Hotel. She identified herself as “Miss Vera Ava” and claimed she’d been inexplicably transported to Cincinnati from Chicago. Obese, dramatic, and disoriented, Vera Ava cut a striking figure. But in short order police had another identity for her: the notorious Madame Diss Debar—a Kentucky-born spiritualist and major league charlatan.

Her given name seems to have been either Editha or Ann O’Delia Salomon, but as Diss Debar she’d gone to prison for defrauding an elderly New York attorney. Presumably she was planning to bring her phony séances and “spirit paintings” here until the police figured her out. Instead she moved on to England, where she called herself Swami Laura Horos and set up a “Purity League.” With a new husband in tow, she lured young women of means to London, and after tea and pleasantries, divested the girls of their money, their jewels, and their innocence.

By 1901, the two were on trial for theft and rape. In The New York Times account, a 16-year-old testified that she was seduced into sexual compliance by the couple’s promise that she would become “a reincarnation of the Virgin Mary.” Both “swami” and husband went to jail, ending the career of the woman who Harry Houdini called “one of the most extraordinary fake mediums . . . the world has ever known.”

But here’s the thing: after prison, she came back here. She was last known to be living alone in Cincinnati in 1909, once again as Vera Ava. Then she vanished from history. There’s no record of her death or where she’s buried. On his blog Unusual Kentucky, mystery writer Jeffrey Scott Holland says, “The proximity . . . nudges the imagination to supposing that she might have come back to her Kentucky.” But she just as likely could have ended her days ingratiating herself to our great-grandparents—an aged con artist looking for one last swindle.

Fit to Serve: Jeannie Murray

Donna Covrett — Thu, 28 Feb 2013 14:16:00 GMT

A bartender at JeanRo Bistro for six years before settling in behind the bar at Jean-Robert’s Table in 2010, Jeannie is one of the most popular bartenders in the city, a vivacious redhead quick to a laugh and with a heavy pouring hand. As one of six children, she believes growing up in a large family prepared her for the world of restaurant service, giving her an ability to adapt to people easily.

The very first restaurant I worked at was The Echo in Hyde Park. I was in high school and the youngest one there. The food was good home-cooked food, but I never really gave it much thought—the customers motivated me. The Echo was such a family place. Customers socialized with each other, ordered the same thing, sat in the same places. As a server, you became part of their lives.

Service is about the people. It’s why I like the bar—you’re more hands on and closer to the people. I like entertaining. I like getting to know the customers. I like bringing strangers together. As much as a good bartender can make a customer’s day, a customer can really make a bartender’s day.

Teller’s introduced me to new world wine. I started serving tables at Teller’s when they first opened, then moved to bartending. They were always slammed and there was always a lot of drinking going on— the food seemed to take a back seat. But the wine selection was awesome.

I moved to the Virgin Islands. I had been at Teller’s four or five years and was ready to experience something different. I was 27 with no job. I just bought a plane ticket and went. But serving is international, so it was easy to find a job bartending. I made a lot of rum drinks. It’s a very slow way of life. Island time—everyone is always 15 minutes late. No one was in a hurry to serve or be served.

I met a gentleman who led white water rafting tours in Oregon. I came home with the plan to meet him out there. The first week I was back my mom suddenly passed away. I ended up staying in Cincinnati.

I knew Jean-Robert [de Cavel] was planning to open JeanRo Bistro. I had eaten at Pigall’s a couple of times. I loved his food. I wanted to work for him. I was so determined to get a job at his bistro.

JeanRo Bistro was the place that kicked me into old world wine. We were thirsty for wine knowledge. Justin Dean did most of the ordering; Andy Sheffield, Michael Washburn, and I soaked up everything we could. We cooked dinners together on off nights and learned about wines by pairing it with our meal.

There was some “time off” between the closing of JeanRo Bistro and the opening of Jean-Robert’s Table, so I tended bar at The Comet. The Comet’s pace and atmosphere is closer to my personal lifestyle: good whiskey drinking, good food, good people, and good music.

Jean-Robert is so French. His knowledge of food is unbelievable; his passion for his work is insane. I believe in his food. I believe in him. I don’t want to work anywhere that I don’t.

At Table, wine and food knowledge is important. We don’t really do craft-style cocktails with homemade syrups and the like, the relationship of wine and beer to food is my thing.

Not everybody knows how to describe what they like until they taste it. I like to let customers taste wine they may be unfamiliar with, or if they’re having a difficult time making a choice. I think it drives Jean-Robert crazy. But it’s a little thing that makes a customer feel special and may turn them on to something new.

Is the customer always right? To a certain degree, yes. Hmmm…maybe not. I try to never get to the point of having an unhappy customer, but if I do, I try to handle it calmly.

I cut overly intoxicated customers off. I’ve called a lot of cabs over the years. But my Irish side comes out if they are belligerent or out of control. I ask them to leave—after they’ve paid for their check of course. Fortunately, we don’t have to deal with overly intoxicated customers very often at Table. Our version is when there’s a room full of customers who all believe they are VIPs.

Even if we are slammed, I’m big on acknowledging the customer. “Hello” goes a long way. Most customers are very forgiving of waiting for a drink if they’ve at least been greeted.

When I’m training a bartender, I stress the importance of eye contact and active listening. You can learn a lot about a customer’s likes and dislikes and deliver the best service accordingly. That’s the advantage of a bar—we’re in close proximity to each other. There’s no excuse not to listen.

I hold a lot of customer’s secrets. Sometimes I’m hearing something I shouldn’t be hearing, or don’t want to be hearing. I have customers who pour their heart out, who reveal very intimate details about their life. It can be very intense.

When someone chooses to go out to eat or drink, they are there to enjoy a ride. As a bartender, you need to read them. Do they want a quiet moment or do they want to absorb the atmosphere? They could have gone most anywhere for a beer or a cocktail—they choose your bar for the atmosphere, or the bartender, or both. The customer has chosen your world. It’s your obligation to thank them.

Good people and a big strong drink—that’s what makes a great bar. I love Northside Tavern (especially live band karaoke night), Milton’s, The Comet. I love The Lackman for a great beer, and Neon’s during the warm weather.

If I weren’t a bartender, I would travel the world and work for National Geographic. One day. One day.

A shortened version of this interview originally appeared in the March 2013 issue.
Photograph by Annette Navarro

Fit to Serve: Leonardo Cangiano

Donna Covrett — Thu, 28 Feb 2013 14:12:00 GMT

A native of Italy, a “citizen of the world,” Leo Cangiano delivers his “no table left behind” hospitality at Nicola’s with genuine warmth, an infectious laugh, and a lot of humor. “I do cheesy really well,” he says. The 34 year-old father of two refers to his Highland Heights, Kentucky, home as “Kentuscany.”

Everyone in America thinks that all Italians grow up in a cooking family. OK—honestly, it’s true. But before I came to America I thought all Americans wore cowboy boots and hats and drove a big Cadillac with horns on the hood.

My uncle owns a restaurant in Pontedera, which is near the town I grew up in, Montecatini Terme [province of Pistoia in Tuscany]. It’s not a tourista restaurant; it serves the type of food that is the spirit of the town.

I thought I wanted to be a chef, so I attended culinary school in Montecatini Terme, but I only completed four years of the five-year program.

I am an only child of a single mother. She was a tour guide and travel agent. She traveled the world and took me everywhere with her. I’ve been in over 20 countries. My mother and I have lived in Spain, Germany, Switzerland, Uruguay, Chile, Brazil, Belgium, France, and more. I speak several languages fluently—Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese—plus a little French, and a little Russian. I feel like a citizen of the world.

My mother’s family is from Argentina. She wanted me to experience all of my cultures, so I also spent time in Argentina. It’s similar to Italy in that wine and food are very important.

My mother moved to the Unites States—to Chicago—in 1997. I stayed behind in Italy with my grandmother for a while. When I could, I finally moved to the U. S.—to New York City first, and then with friends in Philadelphia. I didn’t speak English very well, but I didn’t have to, because in New York City and Philly the Spanish and Italian communities are so large. I worked in cafés where the customers were Italian or Spanish. I joined my mother in Chicago in 2000. In Chicago my English started getting better.

In Chicago I managed an Italian restaurant; Cannella’s On Grand. It was my first manager experience. I also worked banquets at La Strada Ristorante on Michigan Avenue, served tables at Rico’s, Tutto Bene, and La Vita—all ristorantes. I also modeled as well.

I am always very curious. If something catches my eye I have to know about it. Like microbiology—I love it. My wife says I am a nerd trapped in a hunk’s body.

When I moved to Cincinnati I served tables at Trattoria Roma, and eventually became the manager. It was old school and hard to make any changes.

I’m not a big believer in a Marine Corps style of running a restaurant. Of course there should be structure, but you kill a lot of personality when it’s too regimented. Maybe it’s just not the Spanish-Italian way to do things.

I met Cristian Pietoso [chef of Via Vite and former chef at Nicola’s] at a downtown bar. We became good friends. By then I was working for Chef Renee Schuler at her catering company, Eat Well, where I cooked and served events. Cristian came from professional Italian kitchens and had to face the reality of things being different in American kitchens. He’s a great chef, very technical—and very particular. It’s what makes him so good. But he was having a hard time trusting American palates, so he wanted another Italian in the kitchen—someone who knew the Italian palate, who had buongustaio. It’s an Italian term like gourmet, to have a good palate.

So I joined Cristian at Nicola’s six years ago. I worked sauté and pantry. I learned a lot from him in the three years I worked in his kitchen. I felt lucky to be there. He is so talented, and took Nicola’s to the next level.

Nick [Nicola Pietoso, owner of Nicola’s] was desperate for good servers and asked me to work in the front of the house. At the time the service was lacking warmth and being very welcoming. The staff was treating tables as dollar signs and rushing customers through dinners in order to turn the tables.

I’ve been in the dining room ever since. When I’m working at Nicola’s I see the place as my own place. Nick gave me the chance; I give back to him through my service.

Good service means you get the customer what they order. Great service means connecting with the table.

I approach the table as a chameleon. I become whatever they want me to become. Do they want me to be the stereotype Italian? OK, then I’ll be a cheesy Italian, as cheesy as Nicola’s gnocchi. I want customers to fall in love with a place. I want it to feel like their second home. A restaurant is not only about food.

Learn to read the table. Know who is in front of you. Give them what they want.

I don’t care what a customer spends. I’d rather have someone who spends only a little and comes back regularly than the high roller who comes once a year and spends a whole lot. If I have a high roller and all they want is the best and most expensive, I’ll make sure they get that, but most customers want a great experience for a lot less. I’ll make sure they get that too. I don’t want someone feeling as if I’m just a salesman trying to upsell them. No table left behind.

Is the customer always right? Ninety-nine percent, yes. But there’s always an exception. If a customer is behaving badly, I study the situation to think what it is that would make them happy. I will try to please them any way I can. But if it’s out of my control, I call Nick in to take over.

American customers could learn this from the Italian way: take time to enjoy dinner and each other; don’t be in a hurry. And have more patience. Customers sometimes get demanding I am paying so I want something now. Know that a server gets busy and that you are not the only table. It’s a relationship.

It’s super hard to be a server. It’s not easy to please everyone. But I try. I will try.

I have customers from New York, Europe, and other big cities who say Nicola’s is some of the best Italian food they’ve ever eaten. I think so too. If I didn’t work at Nicola’s, it would be one of my favorite places to eat.

Nobody owns the art of cooking. Italian food is about tradition. A lot of chefs make the plate look amazing, but when you taste it, it’s just OK. Flavor shouldn’t be sacrificed for looks. Give me less looks and more flavor. A guest should like a dish so much they crave it, they want to go back and get it again. Like Nicola’s gnocchi. It doesn’t look like much, but people crave it. Flavor should be addicting. You love it; you want it again.

Eventually I want my own place; a little place. And bring my Italy here.

A shortened version of this interview originally appeared in the March 2013 issue.
Photograph by Annette Navarro

Fit to Serve: Kelly Lough Phillips

Donna Covrett — Thu, 28 Feb 2013 13:57:00 GMT

My interview with Kelly Lough Phillips began with an e-mail from her husband and business partner Bryant Phillips, who called her “one of the most capable restaurateurs I’ve ever known.” Lough began her service career at Gold Star Chili at the age of 10, and now, at 35, is the Director of Operations for JKBD, the partnership that owns and operates two restaurants, La Poste Eatery in Clifton and Django Western Taco in Northside. Not only did Phillips open two successful restaurants in two years, she did it while pregnant each time, and even survived being struck by lightning during the second. “We like to get pregnant, open a restaurant, and have a baby,” says Lough.

My family went out to dinner every Friday night. You could find us every Friday at Pete Rose’s restaurant in Springdale.

My restaurant career began at Gold Star Chili, which was owned by the family of my best friend. We were 10 years old, and each Saturday morning after soccer we went to Gold Star to wash dishes and bag cheese.

In high school I worked at The Red Squirrel as a server. The other servers were all older and worked nights at Outback Steakhouse. I was privy to all the restaurant gossip—probably too much information for a 16-year-old, but I loved it and knew I wanted a career in the industry.

When I was a senior in high school, I was hired as a hostess at Hooters. I lasted two days. Day One: they gave me my uniform—tiny white hot pants and tiny top. Day Two: I put the outfit on, went to the restaurant, got through 30 minutes of the shift, and quit.

Dave & Buster’s was next. After serving cocktails for three months they moved me to their headquarters in Dallas to be trained for management. I was part of a small team that overhauled the entire training manual. That was a big deal for a 20-year-old and the first thing that made me think I’m going to do more with this.

I returned to Cincinnati and began working at Chateau Pomije in O’Bryonville. This is where I began my wine education. Lana Shteiwi [now Lana Wright, co-owner of Senate and Abigail Street] and I were best of friends, serving and co-managing the restaurant. It was an amazing crew of professionals, all working towards their own entrepreneurial goals. Lana and I ran the restaurant, always with the goal to open our own restaurant. We had a lot of late-night conversations about what we were going to do: a fine dining, wine-centric restaurant with wine flights and a wine room where customers could choose their own bottle. It was one of the most memorable and exciting times in my life. We both realized our dream, just not together.

Boca turned the game up five more notches. Boca completely flipped a switch for me. It took everything I had learned so far and completely focused it. I was working with highly skilled people in service and food knowledge. They really cared about the food—the attention to detail was unbelievable. I worked there a couple of years serving, left amicably over some disagreements and prepared for my wedding to Bryant. On the day before my wedding, David Falk [owner of Boca] drove out to my parents’ house and asked me to come back to Boca, and offered me the general manager position.

After our honeymoon I took over as GM of Boca. That was a big deal for me. I respected David and cared about that restaurant so much. I was so proud of what we did at Boca—we operated at the highest possible level. Unfortunately, four months later I had to have major shoulder surgery, which was going to put me out for six months. I had to let Boca go, which was really, really hard.

The day I got the doctor’s release for my shoulder, I blew out my knee. With a year of recovering from shoulder and knee injuries, Bryant and I had to time for a lot of conversations about our fundamental beliefs regarding this industry. The conversation about opening a restaurant together grew from all that time off.

We made a list of five chefs we’d be interested in working with. Dave Taylor was one of them. I didn’t know him—had never eaten his food. Bryant loved his food. So we got to know each other over several meals. It was instant chemistry, but there was the question of whether could we work together. So Bryant and Dave worked at The Wise Owl for a year together with the goal that if it worked, we were going to move forward with our plans to open a restaurant. And it did.

We heard Jens Rosencrantz was sniffing around to do something. The four of us ate lunch and drank Gavi together at Via Vite, and the deal was sealed.

The strategy was to hire A-Team players, restaurant professionals. We knew we were going to have a huge wine program, we knew that the food, while simple, would require a staff with food knowledge.

I don’t get wowed by fancy explanations of food. I don’t need a dissertation—I just want the information to be very clear and concise and know that the server cares about the food. Informed but genuine service. Be educated about what you’re selling, and translate it in a genuine way.
If you put your elbow in front of my face, I’ll notice. A server should pay attention to a customer without stalking them. They should be able to articulate the food, wine, and atmosphere in a genuine way. That’s what I consider great service.

What I don’t like is the negative chatter—people talking negatively about others in this business. It’s a big part our team’s manifesto: When you’re outside of La Poste or Django, remember that you are an ambassador of the restaurant. If you don’t have something nice to say about another business or person in this industry, don’t say anything. If I hear something negative that one of my staff said about some other restaurant, we’re having a face-to-face. If you’re getting called in to my office at 3:30 on a Monday, it’s because of something that happened Saturday night.

I live by “firm but fair.” My staff needs to be able to trust me. I believe I’m a natural leader, but that’s not enough. If I’m firm, fair, and consistent, employees can trust me. They know they are supported and that we have each other’s back.

Even though I’m five-foot-nine, I love wearing five-inch heels when I’m on the floor. I enjoy being six-two and being able to see everything in the dining room. I have a better view.

I love this industry so much. Obviously I love food and wine, but I really love being able to create an experience for people. I like being a part of changing someone’s day, making it different for them.

I’m very aware it’s a team effort—it takes all of us to make it happen every day. But I’m always the tallest.

Kelly Lough Phillips talks about being struck by lightning.
I was six months pregnant with Madeline when I was struck by lightning. It was a Saturday afternoon, it was raining, and there had been a thunderstorm. Bryant and I were headed to the restaurant; he was backing the car out of our narrow driveway. I was standing at the end of the driveway with an umbrella when suddenly there was a bright flash underneath the umbrella. I could feel something enter my right arm and exit my left. I felt like I had been sucker-punched. I threw the umbrella and ran back up the steps to the house. I screamed at Bryant that I had been struck by lightning. He had seen a bright flash and had heard a really loud pop (we discovered later that the lightning bolt had hit the house two doors up, and traveled down the hill). We rushed to Christ Hospital to make sure the baby was OK. They hooked me up to the ultrasound and it zaps out—completely powers down. ZZZZZzzzzzzt. The technician was spooked—we all were. They had to bring in another ultrasound machine. Thank goodness we were all fine.

A shortened version of this interview originally appeared in the March 2013 issue.
Photograph by Annette Navarro

Fit to Serve: Joe Leftin

Donna Covrett — Thu, 28 Feb 2013 13:53:00 GMT

From T.G.I. Friday’s to Teller’s, R.P. McMurphy’s, Honey, LaPoste, and Metropole, the 36 year-old Leftin has crammed a lot into his 16-year career, including a solid grasp on the worlds of wine and beer and a first-level sommelier pin.

My restaurant career started at T.G.I. Friday’s at Covington Landing, which we called “The Rock.” I started as a server, just after I turned 20. I thought it was just going to be temporary—something to pay the bills while I was in college studying political science and philosophy. Little did I know.

Yes, I wore “flair.” Stripes and hats and buttons and pins of all sorts, mostly sarcastic in nature. A lot of us wore a button that said, “Tipping is not a city in China.”

I was promoted to bartender at Friday’s, which at that time was a big deal. In the wake of the movie Cocktail with Tom Cruise, flair bartending had become really popular. Friday’s was known for their bartenders and a kind of epicenter for flair bartending. It was a month-long training program with daily pour tests and weekly cocktail tests. Pay was minimum wage for training, so I was working doubles every day for some cash to pay the rent. I was there three years.

The opportunity arose to bartend at Teller’s in 2001. Teller’s was my awakening to fermented beverages: wine, beer, and to some degree, spirits. With 15 glass pours and 30 beers on tap, I had a giant beverage program to play in. Within a year or two I was the head bartender and helping with managerial functions.

After four years at Teller’s I left to bartend at R.P. McMurphy’s. R.P.’s was more of a beer than wine environment, so I began schlepping cases of wine part time for Mark Maher at Cutting Edge Selections—working in the warehouse, picking orders, making deliveries, that sort of thing.

Bartending was easy money, and I had the gift of gab. But the late nights and lifestyle were getting to me. I worked until 4 a.m. and drank until sunrise. I’d miss entire days: wake up and go to work again. I just didn’t want to do that anymore.

I took a year and a half hiatus from the restaurant industry and began selling craft beer for Cavalier Distributing Company. It has the largest portfolio of craft beer in the state of Ohio—100 suppliers, well over 500 beers. I loved it. I loved the educational side of it and the ambassadorial side of it, promoting brands. I had a great base knowledge going in but I learned so much more in the business side of the beverage industry. Selling beer eventually made me a better buyer.

I was spending a lot of time chasing bad checks instead of doing what I like. So in 2007 I left Cavalier to work for [Chef] Shoshannah Hafner at Honey. I began as a server, and eventually became the front-of-the-house manager and ran the beer program.

Kelly Lough called one day and asked me to to interview at La Poste, the restaurant she was opening with her husband Bryant Phillips, Chef Dave Taylor, and their partner Jens Rosenkrantz. She and I had worked together at Teller’s. I had met Bryant when he was working at Sturkey’s and I knew Jens from the world of wine. It seemed like a good fit, so I came on as a server.

Bryant was the wine director. He’s a master. Watching him was a great learning ground. La Poste fostered wine education with weekly wine classes, etc. Bryant was very good about encouraging me to get my sommelier pin, something I had considered back when I was with Cutting Edge and never got around to doing. But I would not have the pin without Eric Faber [La Poste general manager and wine director], who was a great mentor.

By the time I left La Poste I had my level one pin. I was somming the floor, assistant wine director to Eric, and running the beer program. I was serving tables on weekends. I was working 65 to 70 hours per week. I thought they had taught me all I could absorb, so it felt time to move on. They were positive and supportive when I got the offer at Metropole.

My job at Metropole is twofold. I do a lot of service and beverage education with the staff—the beer program is really my baby. I take care of customers of course, which I love. And I train staff.

My role as a restaurant manager is to empower my staff. Give them the tools they need to be successful and learn—tasting wines and beers, for example—nd being there for them to help them be successful. The more knowledge my staff has about a table—whether it’s that they like white wine or lobster or are a celebrating something special—the more it empowers them to do their job better.

Service matters. You can have the most wonderful plate of food, but if there’s not someone to create the ambience and shape the experience, that dish is going to be misunderstood. You need service to tie it together.

When I’m a hiring server, I look for likeability first. Chances are if I like you, a customer is going to like you. Well-spoken is another. So is the ability to engage and connect. I’m not looking for servers that “perform” at tables. The best servers are genuine, personable, and present. The connection has to be on a personal level. After that, it’s to be an authority on what you sell, and have a sense of urgency in all that you do. Your pace is critical. That’s 90 percent of doing it well.

Service is a two-way street, an interactive relationship. Every table is different; every guest is different. Some don’t want a show—they want to come in and eat their meal and be left alone. And there are those that want a lot of interaction, that want every dish described in great detail and to know why you chose a particular wine.

Ironically, computers and technology have enabled us to connect with customers on a more personal level. The same online system that takes your reservation also enables us to write notes about customers and track what they like. Anniversaries and birthdays, what they like to eat and drink, what bottle of wine they drank on this date. It allows us to go through your history when you make a reservation. So, for example, I can see the last date you came in, or your pattern of reservations. Maybe a customer likes to dine on Fridays. Maybe they love whole fish, so maybe we need to run a fish special on the Friday they are dining with us.

Is the customer always right? Yes. Does that mean I always agree with them? No. It means I need to manage their expectation a little better or go out of my way to make them feel that they are right.

A few years ago I was waiting on a table that was “special”—very particular from the get-go. Their first course had come out with no issues. I served the gentleman his main course, a pasta dish. I stayed nearby where I could keep an eye on them as they took their first bites. The gentleman took a half-hearted bite and placed his silverware back in the bowl. I immediately returned to the table to ask how everything was. He says “This linguine is incredibly too long. How am I supposed to eat this?” He repeated it several times. I took it back to the kitchen and cut the gentleman’s linguine into bite-sized portions.

On another occasion I was serving a group of ladies, all wonderful guests—up until the entrées. I could tell that one of the women was really unhappy. When I checked to see what the problem was she said she didn’t like the plate. The actual china. She was so bothered by it that she couldn’t actually bring herself to eat the food. I’m not kidding. She asked if I would put it in a “flare bowl.” I did. She was happy.

The way to handle difficult customers? Give them what they want. Way back at T.G.I. Friday’s I was taught to kill them with kindness. It may be a cliché, but it works for me. To be genuinely empathetic with a guest goes a long way. I can’t change their attitude, but what I can do is attend to whatever the source of irritation is. If that means I need to cut someone’s food up for them, or swap out their china, then so be it. Even if you are stiffed or undertipped, you have to shake it off. To be a professional in this business, you can’t take it personally.

The tagline for 21c and Metropole is “we come from a place of yes.” It’s something I think I’ve practiced throughout my serving career. But “please” and “thank you” goes a long way too. I wish there was more of it in the service industry, and in the world in general.

A shorter version of this interview originally appeared in the March 2013 issue.
Photograph by Annette Navarro

Sneak Peek at Horseshoe Casino

Justin Williams — Wed, 27 Feb 2013 16:27:00 GMT

The new Cincinnati Horseshoe Casino held media tours of its spacious and well-lit gaming floor on Tuesday morning, providing an early glimpse of what the public will experience when the slots and tables open for business.

The $400-million gambling palace located at the Broadway/Eggleston/Central Parkway mashup will go live at an 8:30 p.m. ribbon-cutting ceremony on Monday, March 4, kicking off a 24/7 schedule that offers food, gaming, and entertainment at every conceivable moment.

There are a handful of public entrances to the main casino floor, including an impressive glass entryway facing out toward Central Parkway, likely to be the path of choice for patrons traveling on foot (easily accessed from the Hamilton County Corrections facility across the street!). You can also enter through the five-floor self-park garage (enter via Reading Road and Gilbert Avenue), as well as the Jimmy Buffett’s Margaritaville restaurant/tourist-magnet. The self-park garage will be free for visitors on nights and weekends, and can also be comped via the Total Rewards program, which is a Kroger Plus Card-esque system that tracks how much you spend on blackjack, Bud Lights, etc. A half-hour at the slots or tables, an hour in the poker room, or dropping at least $25 on food and merch equals free parking during weekday business hours.

The food options extend far beyond Cheeseburgers in Paradise, too. Food Network darling Bobby Flay brings his trademark Bobby’s Burger Palace, the 14th iteration of the establishment and first on Ohio soil. The Horseshoe also boasts Spread Buffet for the big eaters, Jack Binion’s Steak for the big winners, and a Starbucks for the big caffeinators. The buffet option—not to be confused with the Buffett option—looked most intriguing, with room for 400 and stations offering unlimited plates of Mexican, Italian, Asian, and local-themed fare for just under $30, including Moerlein beer and a yet-to-be-announced Cincinnati ice cream brand (though if the taped-on monikers adorning the dessert cases are any indication, it’s Graeter’s).

All of the eateries surround the ground floor’s main gaming space, as do the World Series of Poker sanctioned poker room, the gift shop, the themed and oddly named Asian Gaming Room, and the swanky high limit tables and Diamond Lounge, two areas which the media tour provided my first and undoubtedly last glimpses of. There are also escalators leading to a second floor that offers 33,000 square feet of event space, including the 1,400-seat generically named Pavilion, which is already slated to host comedian/actor/Ryan Seacrest-bully Joel McHale on April 20 and capitalization-happy IL DIVO on April 27.

But the big cheese at Horseshoe Casino is the main gaming area in the center of it all, dominating most of the main floor’s 100,000 square feet of opportunities to win big or push back your mortgage payment by a few months. Anchored by the circular Rock Bar and Lounge in the center of the room, nearly 100 table games and an ungodly number of slot machines are spread throughout, ranging anywhere from a penny per spin to $500.

Though it’s nothing extraordinary, the campus-size complex is aesthetically appealing— and very similar in appearance to Horseshoe’s Cleveland venture—indulging in lavish crystal chandeliers and dark wood tones. And while one of the few grumbles thus far from locals is the lack of an accompanying hotel, the casino does provide complimentary shuttle service and special offers through its Total Rewards program to seven partner hotels, including the Westin, Cincinnatian, Hyatt Regency, and the new 21c. Your Total Rewards points can also score deals and credits to be redeemed at numerous restaurants such as Boca, Metropole, Via Vite, Moerlein Lager House, and Montgomery Inn.

By the look of things at Horseshoe and the absence of pure dread on the faces of those milling around inside during our tour, it would appear that everything is on schedule and running rather smoothly thus far. When asked what the main area of concern was leading up to opening night, Paula Morris of Horseshoe Casino and Caesars Entertainment Corp. mentioned that “90 percent of our employees are new to the industry,” but also added that they have been training for months and will have extra managers on the floor, at least in the early going. The 1,000-plus security cameras will help to quell any worries as well. Unless Clooney plans to come home and revive his Danny Ocean character, the Horseshoe should be ready for anything come March 4. May the odds be ever in your favor.

Click here to view our gallery of pictures from inside the Horseshoe Casino.

Photo courtesy of Justin Williams

It Was Time to Play Basketball

Keith O'Brien — Thu, 31 Jan 2013 18:46:00 GMT

In the following excerpt—the prologue from Outside Shot: Big Dreams, Hard Times, and One County’s Quest for Basketball Greatness—author Keith O’Brien introduces us to Billy Hicks, coach of the Scott County High School basketball team and a legend in Kentucky, as he and his players take the floor on the eve of what would turn out to be their momentous 2009-2010 season.

The old-timers were closing in now, reaching for the coach’s elbow, clutching for the cotton of his shirtsleeve, hands moving down his forearm, grasping, as he tried to slip unnoticed through the crowded gymnasium.

Billy Hicks, reeking of the chili and barbecue that he had been cooking all week, didn’t want the attention. The idea of having to talk about basketball with strangers seemed to make his frayed khakis cinch just a bit tighter around his waist and creep up his hips. But they had him now; Hicks knew it. As much as he may have wished to hole up in his windowless, cinder-block office near the basketball court and disappear amid the clutter of his desk, Hicks could not avoid the Scott County fans, thousands of them, surging through the gym over the course of the night.

“Where’s Coach?” they kept asking. “Where’s Coach at?”

Outside, a cold November darkness had fallen on the bluegrass of central Kentucky. Downtown, on Main Street, the antique stores, banks, and county offices had all been closed for hours. If you wanted a drink, you could get one at Galvin’s, downtown’s only bar. But tonight, most people were here in the gym, waiting for their first look at the Scott County High School basketball team, their beloved Cardinals, in the team’s annual preseason intrasquad scrimmage. Never mind that the game didn’t count or that the season wouldn’t officially begin for three more weeks. Like Thanksgiving or Christmas, this night, Meet the Cards, was a notable event in the county, a holiday, really, circled on calendars for months in advance. The boys had been talking about it since August, itching to put on a show. One of them would play tonight with three broken bones in his face. “It hurts,” said Zach Bryant, a backup point guard. “But I’d rather be out there playing.” The scrimmage, many of them agreed, was more important than some of the actual games they would play in the months ahead. Because to suit up tonight meant that you were somebody, a county boy, a round ball star dressed in Cardinal red.

“Anybody grow since last year?” one fan asked Hicks now as the people cornered him near his office.

“How ’bout Ge’Lawn?”

“How’s Dakotah doing?”

The boys had been practicing their dunks for days, hoping to impress the fans with rim-rattling tricks during warm-ups. “You gonna throw one down for me tonight or what?” students asked the ballplayers that day at school. And the players promised, yes—dunks would be thrown down, shout-outs would be given. “I’m gonna throw one down,” one player told an inquiring student, “and then point at you.” That made the student smile.

And now the time was growing closer, the people were gathering. The varsity scrimmage wouldn’t start for another ninety minutes, but already the parking lot outside was full and the concession stand was bustling as people lined up to buy the chili and barbecue that Hicks had cooked to raise money for the school. The food was going fast while the questions kept coming.

“How’s the bench, Coach? You got a lot of depth this year?”

“Any interest in retiring, Coach?”

“Sounds like you’re still enjoying it, Coach.”

“More so than I ever have,” came Hicks’s reply.

His answer was usually that he had ten years left in him, at least eight, no fewer than seven. He was only fifty-seven years old; what else would he do? But the truth was more complicated than that. These days, Hicks was always grousing about how the game was changing. The boys were different and the county was, too. Just over a decade earlier when Billy Hicks brought home Scott County’s first state title, the coach had stood in this very gym and nearly wept before the crowd. Overcome by the moment, Hicks, standing at a podium beneath one of the basketball hoops, covered his large rectangular head with one of his thick hands and fought the tears that were coming.

The county adored him then—and with good reason. People here had always longed to win the Kentucky state basketball tournament, a contest unlike almost any other in the country. Here, there are no divisions—no 6A, 5A, and so on. In Lexington’s Rupp Arena, home of the University of Kentucky Wildcats, where the tournament takes place, big schools face small schools and country boys from coal-mining hamlets take on inner-city kids from Louisville. It isn’t about pitting same against same, or making sure kids take home trophies. Kentucky doesn’t care so much about fairness. What people want here is excitement, to see who’s best, plain and simple. And what they like about the format is its purity, its mathematical simplicity. Sixteen teams, playing for one title, over four days in March.

The crowds are known to exceed 20,000 people. And just making it to Rupp, just playing before these crowds, is considered a great achievement. In 1983, the first time Scott County ever made the Sweet 16, the team spent the week visiting every school in the county. Pep rallies became a daily event. And on the day of the county’s first game at Rupp, the county courthouse shut down at noon and the schools at 10:30 in the morning. It was, according to one student, “the most exciting thing around here since electricity.” And so, fifteen years later, when Hicks not only led the county back to Rupp, but actually took home the title, shocking just about everyone, people in Scott County did everything but declare a public holiday to mark the moment. “This is not a pep rally,” said Gregory Figgs, the high school principal at the time, surveying a sea of jubilant students at one celebration that March. “This,” he explained, “is an educational experience.”

In the months that followed, Billy Hicks received enough fan mail to fill a large plastic bin. Old friends and total strangers, fellow coaches and former players, politicians and preachers, children and the elderly, county executives, fans from rival teams, the mentally ill, and even referees—they all wrote Billy Hicks to praise him or just thank him. “God bless you and all the boys,” said one fan. “I will try to pray for you regularly,” said another. “It really feels like we all won,” wrote a local pastor at the time. For a rare moment, it seemed, people living in the rolling hills north of Lexington actually felt proud to call the county home. One letter put it this way: “You put Scott County on the map.” And another told Hicks that, essentially, he had changed everything. “The people of Scott County now smile a little bigger, stand a little taller, and look for people they can tell where they are from,” the fan wrote. “Here’s to the one that will last forever!”

But now, just over a decade later, even as fans sought out Hicks at Meet the Cards to shake his hand and wish him well, some people were doubting him. In the hallways at the high school and the aisles of the local Walmart that fall, there were whispers: The old coach didn’t have it anymore . . . The county would lose this year, just like it had last year . . . These boys, this team—something just felt wrong. People could feel it—perhaps Hicks most of all. Like a man standing in the surf and watching the sand around his feet being washed out to sea, Billy Hicks could almost feel the ground beneath him giving away. He was sinking, inching ever deeper into a world where child athletes called the shots and their parents demanded athletic greatness at seemingly any cost, while these fans, this county, longed for the innocence of a not-so-distant past.

“It’ll be a good year,” said one fan, nodding now. “It’ll be a good year.”

“Hope so,” Hicks replied. “We’ll see.”

And then it was time. In the locker room, the boys were pushing for the door, shouting, their knees bouncing with nerves. On the court, the cheerleaders were waiting, lined up on the baseline, shrieking, fists in the air, growing louder by the minute.

Red! White! LET’S GO!

The boys bounded onto the court. The county fans stood up and cheered.

It was nearly winter in Kentucky. Soon, there would be snow in the hills and a blanket of frost laid out on the bluegrass. It was time to play basketball.

Read our Q&A with author Keith O’Brien from the February 2013 issue.

Bigger Ideas

Thu, 01 Nov 2012 12:00:00 GMT

We covered a lot of ground in our November cover story, "Big Ideas." We asked the scientists, researchers, teacher, and entrepreneurs from that story to answer two questions for us. What was the most exciting idea in their field or the city? And what was the most pressing need they saw? Their answers are included here.

What’s the most pressing need in either your field or the city?

Ramone Davenport, principal, Dohn Community High School
Honestly, truancy. We’re losing our students to the streets. That’s the depressing part. You can’t teach students if they aren’t at school. That’s what inspired the incentive project [where Dohn students are paid for their attendance]. We got up to an 80 percent attendance rate, and that’s great for us. If we keep that, we’ll be OK. But the hard part is parents are enabling students to stay home. Maybe they’re taking care of younger brothers and sisters, maybe that’s more important than coming to school. It takes a lot of people to actually see what the problem is before you can fix it. It’s spiraling out of control. We need to bring back truancy officers who can just swoop those kids up. If you ride down East McMillan, half the kids are outside. If there’s a truancy officer, he can at least pick them up, take them off the street, give them a consequence. They only move when there’s a consequence. It’s like, you aren’t going to pay the Duke bill until you get that notice that they’re going to shut off the power.

Nate Wessel, creator of a better metro map
One of the most important things they could do would be to simplify the routes. They take a lot of deviations and alternate courses that sometimes depend on the time of day. They make local sense—a certain street may be busy at rush hour so the bus takes a different course—but those little convolutions make it really hard to understand the transit system.

David Singleton, executive director, Ohio Justice and Policy Center
We’ve got to do more on the front end, getting people the education they need.

Troy Frasier, program director, Gabriel’s Place
Supportive and clearly outlined regulations involving urban farming, farmers markets, and commercial kitchens.

Nancy Johnson, reading specialist, Cincinnati Public Schools
Community involvement. Make a commitment to coming in and supporting teachers and students with your time. Taft Law Firm and GE have been great about making a commitment to coming into schools and consistently honoring that. It makes a huge difference.

Austin Allison, CEO, dotloop
Innovation comes from change and evolution. Many people in business are resistant to change. Whether in Cincinnati or elsewhere, people need to be better at embracing change and rewarding risk. Innovation occurs through failure. It takes people willing to take risks. Every city should think about embracing risk and failure. Cincinnati is doing this in the form of the Chamber of Commerce’s Cincinnati Innovation Awards, as well as through tax credits for companies that move into the city. We need to see more of that.

Kate Hanisian, executive director, Design Impact
We need to continue to make long-term investments in the things that are right, that are innovative, and that are about ensuring equal opportunities for everyone—not just the things that are cost-cutting, or immediate, or good for a few. And I think design, with its obsession for understanding end-users and their needs, has an important role to play in setting Cincinnati apart as a city that walks to its own successful beat, cares for all its citizens, and, at the end of the day knows how to throw a helluva good party.

Wijdan Jreisat, Social Venture Partners
Children and youth at risk. Virtually every social issue and need can be addressed by focusing on assisting this segment of our community. In supporting children and youth at these key junctures, a variety of other social issues can be addressed and improved.

Linda Neenan, executive director, iSpace
Getting the public to understand the need for STEM [science, technology, engineering, and mathematics] education. It’s where our kids’ futures lie. Eighty percent of jobs in the future are going to rely on at least one of the STEM skills so parents need to be aware, educators need to be trained, and corporations need to step up. We’ve got unemployment problems, but the reason we have those is that we have not concentrated on filling the pipeline. We need to get kids early and engage them in the educational programs that will encourage them to pursue careers in STEM. There are 3 million jobs open in this country and 3,300 engineering jobs in the region that we can’t fill because people don’t have the skills.

Kara Williams, vice president, Vision 2015
Economically competitive regions have a compelling story to share. In our region we have a phenomenal story, but often times we are less than cohesive and consistent with our messaging. Messaging is incredibly important as we compete with regions from across the country for jobs and talent. I am not talking about a tag line or an ad campaign. I am talking about a platform that conveys what we have to offer in this region and why people should live here, work here, and grow their business here. We need to share our significant assets in a compelling way.

Susan Mboya, founder, Zawadi Africa Education Fund
The girls currently fundraise on their own, and Zawadi is looking to set up a separate donor pool to raise funding for these auxiliary programs run by our alumni. From our years of leadership development, we have excellent program content, and of course could not have more qualified teachers to convey this message of hope than the Zawadi girls themselves, who are living proof that there is hope for young women who choose to stay in school. We have received a small grant from the U.S. State Department, but with the right support, we clearly have an opportunity to do more.

Greg Landsman, executive director, Strive Partnership
The human brain develops most rapidly in its first few years, but public spending on children doesn’t pick up until they reach kindergarten. The most pressing need is to convince the community to bend that investment curve so we invest in children when they’re developing at the fastest rate. It’s more than convincing lawmakers, although that’s important, and it’s more than just changing the way local philanthropic leaders invest their money. This is arguably the most pressing social-justice issue of our time.

Paula Boggs Muething, vice president of Real Estate Reuitalization, Port of Greater Cincinnati Development Authority
The thing that’s missing—a big piece of the puzzle—is technology accessibility. Collecting all the public [property] information that’s out there and putting it into one place—that could go a long way. We would spend a lot less time tracking information down, doing it one property at a time. And it would empower the public to know what’s going on in their neighborhoods. We’re working with CAGIS [Cincinnati Area Geographical Information System] and with LISC [Local Initiatives Support Corporation], and we’re trying to progress. I’m optimistic.

Arianne Benick, seamstress, Cincinnati’s Shriners Hospital for Children
I live in Avondale, and I would like to see more education opportunities for these kids that are running around, little 5- or 8-year-olds with nobody watching them. I would like to see more of a police presence.

Nate Wessel, creator of a better metro map
We need to get back in the city. We have too many suburbs. I’d like to see some talk about regional government. We have an extremely broken-up governmental structure; we end up competing against each other. [But] I’m excited to see transportation activists, whether it’s people who are working on the streetcar or in city bike, coming together and forming a community. I’d like to see Cincinnati eliminate density caps. Getting rid of stricter zoning requirements would allow people to re-habitate the city in new, exciting ways.

Ron Evans, team leader for primates, Cincinnati Zoo
Schools. We need to figure out a way to get kids focused on education. At the zoo, we do all kinds of school programs with Cincinnati Pubic Schools. The Cincinnati Zoo Academy has been around for 30 years. Juniors and seniors come to the zoo and take classes and work with the keeper and get a feel for working with exotic animals. It’s a really cool program and it’s unique. No other zoo has it.

What’s the most exciting idea in either your field or the city?

Joan Conn, working to end child slavery in Haiti
One of the most exciting ideas in our field is that the government and the faith-based communities have mobilized toward this issue. Do Something Now is one of the largest faith-based movements to join the issue of human trafficking and slavery issues and Slavery Footprints website allows people to take a survey to see how many slaves they actually support. There is a great deal of momentum growing out of these movements.

David Singleton, executive director, Ohio Justice and Policy Center
A growing understanding among lawmakers that is making it hard for released convicts to re-enter the workforce is a recipe for failure. We’re working with Governor Kasich and others to try to lessen the cascade of [restrictions] that limit people’s ability to work because of a felony record.

Wijdan Jreisat, Social Venture Partners
Collective impact—that we can all work together to achieve large-scale social change. We are focused on working with our investee nonprofit partners to achieve their goals and to explore options for collaborating with others in the community to achieve maximum potential.

Colleen Houston, vice president of programs and operations, ArtWorks
We are really excited about creating public art in addition to murals, such as sculpture and temporary installations for the city. We are also excited to continue to partner with neighborhoods and community stakeholders to create engaging art in shared public spaces. As far as murals go, we are really excited to elevate the arts in downtown Cincinnati and continue to focus on painting new masterpieces in our city core, in addition to neighborhoods.

Troy Frasier, program director, Gabriel’s Place
The Cincinnati Zoo and Botanical Gardens has demonstrated enormous agility and resolve to impact the Avondale neighborhood in long-term and sustainable ways. From building community gardens on several lots to leveraging empty city space and working alongside Gabriel's Place to construct the Hoop House, their commitment to urban green initiatives is refreshing to see and experience firsthand. They are working to build partnerships that help expose urban residents and youth to working farms and fresh food sources, which makes [everyone’s understanding of food systems] a relevant conversation.

Nancy Johnson, reading specialist, Cincinnati Public Schools
Common Core Standards. These new standards clearly designate what students should learn at each grade level in four subjects: English-Language Arts, math, science, and social studies. Since their development, 45 states have adopted these standards as a way to eliminate the disparities in learning standards that can exist state to state.

Linda Neenan, executive director, iSpace
We coordinate FIRST Robotics for the region. FIRST, which is a global robotics program for kids and teenagers, stands for “For Inspiration and Recognition of Science and Technology.” There are programs for every level from a junior Lego league to high school robotics competitions. The kids compete internationally and can be awarded patents for their ideas. There was a group of middle school students in Loveland who performed an energy audit on their school. They figured out how to save their district $54,000 a year.

Ron Evans, team leader for primates, Cincinnati Zoo
The opportunity to link up what we do at the zoo with wild animal conservation through our keeper talks and conservation action steps. For instance, we’ve collected tens of thousands of cell phones for recycling from zoo visitors. That’s tens of thousands of conservation thoughts that the pubic has had—people who, after they left the zoo, took the initiative to come back with their old cell phone and drop it off.

Susan Mboya, founder, Zawadi Africa Education Fund
For me the most exciting idea behind Zawadi is the multiplier effect that a program of this kind can have. At Zawadi we say that our greatest asset is our students and each and every girl that we empower and equip with the skills necessary to become a leader, has the potential to touch, influence and benefit thousands of young women, who in turn, can touch thousands more. We are already seeing this with Zawadi, with our alumni empowering over 6,000 high school girls this year alone. These programs are critical to Zawadi having the intended impact, as they have such tremendous potential to reach young women when they are at their most vulnerable and once established, can help to break the vicious cycle of poverty that afflicts most young women in economically depressed areas in Africa.

Kara Williams, vice president, Vision 2015
I, like many young professionals, care about quality of life and connection to our region’s natural resources. I want to see more connectivity of our current and planned trail systems. The natural beauty of our geography can cause havoc on our street grid, but it provides a backdrop like nowhere else in the Midwest. We have an opportunity to capitalize on the natural beauty of our hills and rivers and streams [Licking River, Mill Creek, Little Miami] to build a trail system that rivals any in the country.

Greg Landsman, executive director, Strive Partnership
There’s some exciting stuff about expanding access to preschool that’s going to be a game-changer, because we know if you can support a child in the first few years of life, you put that child on a trajectory when they enter kindergarten that will be very difficult to interrupt. That doesn’t mean the work is done, but it means they’re on a trajectory to success.

Kate Hanisian, founder, Design Impact
I think the most exciting idea in Cincinnati right now is the support for creative local business, artistic and celebratory events, and various new paradigms for living, working, and playing in our city. I hope to come back one day from a trip to India and feel the same bustling street-life that India, as well as so many other American and global cities, have mustered.