Dr. Know: Kings Island, Chester’s, and Google Maps

The Good Doctor explains why everything is called ”kings,” the home of Chester (who was never born and can never die), and city lines on GPS maps.
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ILLUSTRATION BY LARS LEETARU

I’m a fairly new Cincinnatian, living northeast of the city. Why do so many places around here use the name “Kings?” I don’t just mean the giant amusement park and auto mall, but plumbers, dentists, stores, etc. I’m told that Cincinnati is the Queen City, so why do I see Kings everywhere? —ROYALLY CONFUSED

DEAR CONFUSED:
Yes, Cincinnati is the undisputed Queen City. But in 1884, a baby king was born in a place that was then considered to be extremely far away: Kings Mills. This was a humble company town named for the King Powder Company, makers of gunpowder (a boom town, yuk-yuk). The town’s name was probably not on every other storefront, but that all changed in 1971 when Cincinnati’s Coney Island closed down (yes, it happened before; don’t ask). A brand-new theme park up at Kings Mills opened, naming itself after the little town and inspiring widespread copying of the royal title. Kings Island, then, is not a mere example of countless Kings-named businesses—it is the cause. But only since the 1970s and mostly around your neighborhood.

It should be noted that not all royal monikers are directly tethered to Kings Island. We have enjoyed numerous sports teams calling themselves Kings. We’ve listened to King Records songs while drinking Little Kings. And the Doctor has personally witnessed small children saying that the park belongs to someone named King Ziland.


 

What was the now-gone restaurant on the 7000 block of Montgomery Road, between the Frisch’s and the drive-in theater? It had an uncommon name, and lots of windows. It might have been one of the Comisar restaurants. I obviously don’t remember much about it, but I liked the food. —TIP OF MY TONGUE

DEAR TIP:
Asking to identify a restaurant with “lots of windows” is much like asking to identify a stadium with “lots of seats.” But the Doctor thanks you for mentioning the Comisar family; that cracks the mystery. The Comisars owned not only legendary Cincinnati restaurants like Maisonette and La Normandie, but also Chester’s Roadhouse. There’s your uncommon name, especially since there never was an actual Chester. (Described ominously: “He was never born and he will never die.”)

Your memory of the location has gone a bit wobbly. The 7000 block of Montgomery Road is in Silverton, but Chester’s Roadhouse stood firmly in the city of Montgomery; the restaurant’s stately building had once been the residence of

that city’s former mayor. You did, however, nail the detail that Chester’s was flanked by a Frisch’s and the old Montgomery Drive-in. All three, sadly, have since disappeared. A series of car dealerships replaced both Chester’s and the drive-in, and the Frisch’s was bulldozed for a bank. On the plus side, they all have lots of windows.


 

When I drive from Oakley to Pleasant Ridge to Amberly and beyond, why does the street name keep changing between Ridge Road and Ridge Avenue? There must be a reason. —FOLLOW THE YELLOW BRICK AVENUE

DEAR YELLOW:
If you open Google Maps and search for, say, College Hill, the map will show a red outline of the former village, which was annexed as a Cincinnati neighborhood in the 1920s. Now, do a search for Columbia Township. Surprise: It shows more than 10 separate red outlines. That’s because Columbia Township still exists as an independent municipality despite most of it having been annexed away over the past two centuries.

Now, zoom in on your problematic Ridge Avenue/Road. Notice that it runs into and out of some of those Columbia Township outlines. Voila! Inside all of the Columbia Township areas it is Ridge Road, and everywhere else it is Ridge Avenue.

The map doesn’t show every one of these transitions, but the Doctor diligently drove the street’s entire length and can confirm that all Road vs. Avenue swaps match the changes in municipalities. But your question, we must acknowledge, is the reason why. Here we crash into the realities of a shattered township dealing with weightier issues than yours. Sorry, but this shall remain as mysterious as “Why did the chicken cross the avenue?”

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

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