
Illustration by Lars Leetaru
I collect old high-society “blue books” and recently got a Cincinnati one from 1919. Several pages have ads from the phone company that are really pushy, telling you to not gossip or talk too long, don’t abuse the operator, etc., or your phone could be confiscated! I’m sending you images of the pages. —CINCINNATI HELL
DEAR HELL:
This is a first: Instead of the Doctor receiving a quirky question, he gets a ready-made quirky answer. Even the evidence is included. Merry Christmas, everyone! While it’s true that telephone etiquette was in its infancy in 1919, one would think that the gentry listed in Mrs. Devereraux’s Blue Book of Cincinnati Society would, by definition, behave only with the finest of manners—holding the earpiece with their pinky extended, and needing no raps on the knuckles from the phone company. Apparently not.
The ads you’ve provided suggest a high-strung clientele in need of some chill. Answer the damn phone when it rings! But when you’re the one calling, don’t hang up too soon! And smile when you talk! And don’t talk too long, especially on a party line! (Do blue-book people stoop to having party lines?) And stop cursing out the operator, she’s got a hard enough job! We literally have the right to take your phone away if you don’t behave! Seems like some blue-blood Cincinnati blue-bookers used to work blue. Thanks for your gift.
In Westwood on Harrison Avenue, there are two old adjacent buildings that were going to become a pair of upscale restaurants. Big signs showed beautiful renderings. I looked forward to the grand openings, but now the big signs are gone. What is, or isn’t, happening there? —TO EAT OR NOT TO EAT
DEAR EAT:
The best laid plans sometimes lay about. They sometimes are ultimately laid to rest. How fitting, then, that a former funeral home might be the final resting place of near-deceased plans. Say a prayer for Westwood’s long-gone Bolton & Lunsford Funeral Home on Harrison Avenue, which consists of two conjoined historic buildings. The Doctor reported in September 2023 that they were going to transform into two upscale restaurants, but the City Planning Commission rejected the drawings, claiming that two large solariums envisioned for the front would obstruct the view of these “historic” buildings.
All is not lost. While the Planning Commission forbids obstructing the view of these buildings, they just might be OK with completely demolishing them and constructing an entirely new structure that “fits the character of Westwood’s Town Hall District.” At this point the Doctor must add that he received this information second-hand, and so events may not be as ridiculous as they seem. Then again, we are talking about city government, so…
The controversy over the height of proposed new buildings on Hyde Park Square reminded me of something. I once lived in the Al’aise Building on the corner and was told that an entire extra floor had been added there. Is that true, and if so, did people oppose it the way they do today? —A TALL TALE
DEAR TALL:
The only lingering controversy concerning your former residence is about how it’s spelled. Various stories about its architectural beauty have spelled it Al’aise, like you do, but also as A L’aise. Your preference is used most often, but perhaps that “Al” strikes some as looking suspiciously like a common steak sauce. Hyde Park can’t allow that!
As for the building growing an extra floor, that story is true. The Al’aise Building (we’ll go with that spelling) suffered a massive fire in 1927. While just about everything inside was destroyed, all the residents escaped. The most severe injury was suffered by Cincinnati’s Fire Chief, who was thrust down a marble staircase by an errant fireman’s hose. Fragging? We’ll never know.
The structure barely survived, and when it was rebuilt the half-story upper floor was increased to full size. No records indicate that anyone complained. Hey, almost one quarter of the Square’s stores and residences had been made vacant by the fire, so everyone was happy. Well, maybe not the Fire Chief.
Dr. Know is Jay Gilbert, radio personality and advertising prankster. Submit your questions about the city’s peculiarities here.


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