Dr. Know: Google Maps, City Works, and Tom Denhart

The Good Doctor investigates digital maps, street signs, and comic books.
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Illustration by Lars Leetaru

Iwas far from home and asked Google Maps for directions to the nearest Burger King. When I got close, the voice said, “Turn right just after the Gold Star Chili.” What?? Does Gold Star Chili pay Google to program my GPS to say that? Do they expect me to change my mind? —MAKE MINE A WHOPPER

DEAR WHOPPER:
The nerve of some people. Or, more accurately, the nerve of some apps pretending they’re people. It’s like every driver now has a digital gang of noisy kids in the back seat: Oh, wait, don’t go here! Let’s go to [other franchise]! They’ve got [this month’s cardboard toy that I’ll leave on my bedroom floor forever after tonight]!

Fortunately, such a dystopian scenario has not yet arrived. Yes, Google Maps is sprinkled with countless icons that are now obligatory expenses for every commercial establishment on, um, the map. But the endlessly-patient voice that directs you to your destination, even when it must recalculate your dumbass wrong turn, cannot be bought! The voice will occasionally point out a well-known commercial landmark when giving directions (“Turn left at the Starbucks”), but this is merely a way to ease your experience and not a product placement that Google sells. Local places like Gold Star and UDF get a freebie for being such familiar Cincinnati roadway signs. Google Maps may soon have the ability to be as specific as “Bear left after damaging your suspension in the upcoming pothole.”


A guest at my home noticed the large street sign on my wall I’d “liberated” from a corner in Cheviot back in the 1980s (it has my name). She told me that Cincinnati now actually sells old street signs at a local store. Is that true? If so, where? And please don’t reveal my Cheviot street name! —BLAND LARCENY

DEAR MR. GLENMORE:
The Doctor always protects his sources, so even though you decided to illegally Carrie away the Cheviot street sign, your confession is a safe Gamble. Your guest, however, was only partially correct when she said you don’t have to Robb a street sign to own one.

There was a time when any Alex, Jane, or Herbert from Cheviot—or anywhere— could shop at a store called City Works. It opened in 1992, where the Ludlow Garage had once been (and would later be again). City Works peddled Cincinnati’s old street signs, parking meters, police helmets, office furniture, and much more. Items confiscated and impounded by the cops were not included.

City Works lasted for just a short time. There apparently wasn’t enough demand for things like ratty old dummies the Fire Department used for teaching CPR. The city of Cincinnati is back to auctioning off its old paraphernalia in batches. Be careful next time a Cheviot street sign seems to be calling your name; don’t raise a Ruckle.


I collect old comic books. The June 1948 issue of Batman has an ad featuring “High School Champs of America,” and that month it was Tom Denhart from Cincinnati, Ohio. Assuming this was a real person, I’m curious how Tom’s life turned out and if he’s still alive. —HOLY BIOGRAPHY, BATMAN

DEAR HOLY:
Yes, Tom Denhart was an authentic “Outstanding Boy” who was profiled in Batman #47 as part of the ad campaign for Thom McAn Shoes. He graduated from Hughes High School in 1948 and died in 2011. The ad described him as a truly outstanding student, athlete, orator, and capitalist (“Tom’s hobby pays a profit! He traps muskrats and sells their fur!”). Of course, he also wore Thom McAn’s sturdy, rich-grain leather shoes. (“They give you real grown-up styling and quality!”)

It was the capitalist Tom who prospered through the 1970s and into the 2000s as Cincinnati’s largest owner of Over-the-Rhine rental properties. Some credit massive federal Section 8 subsidies with helping him offer reasonably well-maintained apartments for thousands of low-income tenants. Others say the federal money turned him into our version of Fred Trump, cashing in as a slumlord. Whatever your perspective, the High School Champ of America became the Rental Champ of Over-the-Rhine. And to think he could have opted to become the Muskrat Fur Moneybags of the Midwest.

Dr. Know is Jay Gilbert, radio personality and advertising prankster. Submit your questions about the city’s peculiarities here.

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