Illustration by Lars Leetaru
When I drive on Victory Parkway, I wonder why it’s called that. Who did we defeat? Confederate soldiers? American Indians? Was there some long march from Paddock Hills through Avondale and Evanston to Walnut Hills and Eden Park? Seriously, what was the victory? —DO IT IN THE ROAD
DEAR DO IT:
By far, Victory Parkway’s greatest victory is this: Being called Victory Parkway. Otherwise you would be gagging while asking, “Why is it called Bloody Run Boulevard?” That was the name when the street was first proposed around 1907 as part of a plan to connect all Cincinnati parks with one long picturesque road. The origin of the Bloody Run name is disputed; it’s either because it was close to the runoff from slaughterhouses or it had experienced nasty battles with American Indians.
Two things influenced the name change. First was the loudly expressed opinion that a tree-lined roadway of tranquility should maybe not be called Bloody Run. Second, our city government—and this may sound familiar—took forever to finish the project. It wasn’t completed until the 1920s, when our recent triumph in World War I suggested the improved name. Like Central Parkway and Columbia Parkway, Victory Parkway was originally planned to be at least as much “park” as “way,” with scenic surroundings and pristine areas. Feel free to tell yourself that this actually happened; just drive with your eyes closed.
In Northside where I walk, I found a small brass plaque embedded in the sidewalk on Apple Street that says “Spanish War Veterans, 1898–1902.” It’s strange, because there’s just a vacant lot there. Does it commemorate something that’s gone? What’s it doing there? —THANKS FOR NO MEMORY
DEAR THANKS:
After more hours of research than this job could ever justify, the Doctor can report that the United Spanish War Veterans (USWV) was a real group. They often used a meeting hall on Apple Street in Northside, but the hall was several blocks away from the plaque you found embedded in a lonely sidewalk. Hmm. Did the plaque land there after being shot out of a cannon during a drunken USWV ceremony?
The Doctor burrowed further and confirms that a house belonging to one Walter F. Kuhlmann stood at 4123 Apple Street, just off Palm Avenue. He’d served in the Spanish-American War (oh, we’re getting warm) and his wife
Florence had been president of the Northside USWV (warmer). In 1953, the intersection at Apple and Palm was converted to a dead end, which required a new sidewalk to be poured along the front of the Kuhlmann house. Bullseye!
The Kuhlmanns obviously took the opportunity to get their USWV plaque embedded right there. The house is now gone, so readers who prefer the Doctor’s initial drunken cannon theory are free to go with that.
Now that Forest Fair Mall has been demolished, can you tell me why it was such a huge failure? I wasn’t around when it opened, and all I ever hear is that it was the worst disaster in the history of malls. But why? Did nobody go for some reason, or was there a scandal or something? —YOU’VE GOT MALL
DEAR GOT:
Perhaps the answer is that it was the only U.S. shopping center to never use the slogan, “Forest Fair Mall: We’ve Got It All!” That’s ironic, because the entire concept was that this would be a place with absolutely everything. Its slogan was “Bigger Than Life,” and people called it “a supermarket and Disneyland under one roof.” Forest Fair Mall was basically a Walmart with entertainment centers, rides, waterways, and endless sensory overload. Everything there truly was bigger than life—especially its crushing debt.
Forest Fair Mall opened in March 1989, its owner went bankrupt that October, and three major stores had liquidation sales the following September (“Forest Fair Mall: No Faster Fall!”). Blame whatever you want: the distant location, oversized ambition, monstrous traffic backups, an already over-malled region, etc.
After several unsuccessful makeovers, the place has been put out of its bigger-than-life misery. Let’s just be thankful that Tri-County Mall wasn’t alive to see this debacle.
Dr. Know is Jay Gilbert, radio personality and advertising prankster. Submit your questions about the city’s peculiarities here.
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