Illustration by Lars Leetaru
I was captivated as a kid by Johnny Bench’s storybook wedding exactly 50 years ago. I liked the Fifth Third Bank commercials he made with Vickie, but I can’t find them online or anywhere. Was Vickie purged? Has a tiny bit of history been covered up? —VICKIE BENCHED
DEAR BENCHED:
Our world has seen many attempts to hide uncomfortable histories: the FBI files of the JFK assassination, the Nixon Watergate tapes, and Fifth Third Bank’s commercials with Johnny and Vickie Bench. The Doctor is proud to expose this shocking 50-year coverup.
Make no mistake, these commercials were not “lost.” They were knifed. Johnny was already cranking out Fifth Third Bank endorsements in 1975 when he and Vickie had their whirlwind romance—a mere 55 days from when they met to when they wed. They started doing ads together and then created more spots to coincide with the 1976 Reds season. But just before Opening Day came Johnny and Vickie’s whirlwind breakup—a mere 55 weeks from when they wed to when they separated.
All evidence of Vickie was frantically cut out of every commercial. Her side of the story also disappeared, as the divorce agreement kept both parties from talking publicly about their marriage. Johnny had to pay Vickie a cash settlement as well as some alimony. They each had to return various gifts. And this one belongs to the lawyers.
I became used to looking at TikTok for the news, but the app’s recent interruption made me re-think things. Whatever TikTok’s ultimate fate, I now want to depend on other sources for news, especially at the local level. What are your recommendations for Cincinnati’s best news sources? —TIKT OFF
DEAR TIKT:
Many of our readers are probably aghast that you ever depended on TikTok for reliable information of any kind. We all hope that the taste from your Tide Pods has subsided by now. As for your question, the Doctor fears that, however he answers, he himself will show up on the news wearing tar and feathers. People have, shall we say, strong opinions in this regard.
What counts as “news” is personal. Some look at the websites/apps of Cincinnati’s television stations for things like updates on the jury selection of accused pedophiles. Others use apps like Citizen to monitor crime reports and 911 calls—they even upload their own videos of events they’ve witnessed.
For dry stuff like government events, social issues, etc., we still recommend legacy media: our local daily newspaper, NPR affiliates, and yes, radio and TV stations. And don’t forget that your free public library card gets you into a deep website with access to many otherwise-paywalled news publications. Whether or not TikTok stays long-term, we beg you: Please do not consume questionable news feeds! Or Tide Pods.
I recently bought an old Cincinnati house, and my deed mentions the “Gest Standard.” I know what that means because your column explained it back in November 2016. But you didn’t say exactly when Joseph Gest’s infamous error was discovered. Was he still alive? Was he skinned alive? —HE GEST WRONG
DEAR WRONG:
For those unaware: Joseph Gest was a highly respected surveyor who mapped out large portions of Cincinnati in the early 1800s. But he screwed up—really, really screwed up. Properties were mis-measured by only a few inches, but that added up to Cincinnati’s size being off by five acres! After Gest’s folly was discovered, nobody wanted to re-survey hundreds of properties, so they just added “Gest Standard” to the measurements on deeds like yours. Do not trust those numbers when widening your driveway.
The Doctor has searched widely to determine precisely when local officials became aware of Gest’s massive blunder. One would think such a monumental fustercluck would have found its way to a newspaper, a City Council meeting, or a firing squad, but there’s nothing.
The earliest mention of a “Gest Standard” we could find was from 1877, but Joseph Gest had died in 1863. He also had seen a Cincinnati street named in his honor in 1851. It therefore appears that our screwed-up surveyor escaped any comeuppance. Perhaps an angry coroner squeezed him into a miniature coffin?
Dr. Know is Jay Gilbert, radio personality and advertising prankster. Submit your questions about the city’s peculiarities here.
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