Why Do I Hate Cleveland So Much
Why Do I Hate Cleveland So Much
Plus some important updates
Some updates on major issues I’ve covered thus far in my 2019 chronicle of Cleveland:
—The New York Times runs a piece about the questionable benefits of Opportunity Zones that coincides with my thoughts about Cleveland’s beneficiary.
—CLASH is now running a petition drive as they continue to pressure the city and council to do something other than Talk About Doing Something. The stats keep coming. Plus this issue finally receives some national coverage, hopefully the first in a cascade.
—The PD Guild is still trying to force Advance to make some concessions. A reader of these Chronicles emails to wonder why they don’t try to organize the Cleveland dot com staff?? The Russian Doll party I went to drew 450 people and raised over $5000.
— I have raised the question of who really runs the city; it’s even more unclear what the answer is now, as the Mayor is even more MIA than usual, and the County Executive’s office has been raided by the FBI. Even the local paper is stating the sad facts simply and stating them plain.
—What, really, am I doing with this project? I’m still unsure, though comments from you my readers are heartening and get me back to the laptop. I suspect that Kyle Swenson embarked on a similar exercise a few years ago, and he summed in up in the prologue to his just-published book, which, if I were the publisher, would have had the word Cleveland in the title. Please please buy a copy your local indie or ask. your local library to order. Let’s blow this title up: our word of mouth can do a lot of the work.
—Incredibly, I have still not seen any chatter about the latest in a debate that the arts community could not stop talking about for years.
—I am still musing about ruin porn, particularly as I walk the streets of Tremont. Towards that end I’ve been reading Olivia Lang’s Lonely City: Adventures in the Art of Being Alone. It’s lovely. The flaneur is our modern cliche character of urban life, and for better or worse, politics and gender issues aside, it damn straight works for me: I crave walking through a city full of street life; I crave it as I crave warmth in a Cleveland February, coffee when hungover, sleep when jet lagged. It is a physical longing. I was in Paris a few months ago, and I felt Benjamin incarnate. Now, Cleveland offers little of such experiences, and this is not a criticism of the city—most mid-sized American cities, and many large ones, do not have sufficient street life, sidewalks, and retail in a condensed space to afford the ecstasy of being anonymous in public. We do, however, offer a bounty of weak ties, relationships with store owners and the like, and over the next few weeks I am going to introduce you to the folks I talk to daily on my walks through my neighborhood. I do not observe them while sitting on a park bench, but I do chat with them when I buy my coffee or milk or ramen. I want to develop a theory of the flaneur for cities with stores only here and there, sidewalks that disappear, small businesses inside buildings painted with the faded signs of ghost businesses from the past.
A friend of mine from Twitter was in town for the first time yesterday and she tweeted this while eating dinner on East 4th Street:
What I love about this tweet is that it is both right and wrong at once. I want to respond to correct her, school her, but also that I do not, because her experience is true (not for trying, though, the soul selling). It is the tweet equivalent of Judd’s City Tavern, which I visited for the first time recently: both ‘authentic’ and not and in that lies its authenticity; the Velvet Tango Room falls into this same category. The ‘realness’ lies in the effort, not in some un-selfconscious purity, or ‘noble savage’ innocence. We are trying here. It’s all trying.
—Are you reading this and do not know the references I am making? Wondering where be the links? This is why I intentionally leave out explanations and links: say I were writing a book about New York City, and I mentioned Park Avenue. I would not include an appositive with the demographics and associations to explain Park Avenue. I would be able to assume my reader knew. One of the most problematic and exhausting elements of writing about a place that is under-written about is having to assume a reader does not know references. To be able to assume is a great privilege. An easy analogy: think of how in mainstream media or, to be honest, my conversations with friends, “black” or “African-American” is often added to describe a person, but ‘white” rarely. I am intentionally assuming my reader understands my references, or, more accurately, letting those who do not be in the dark, and find their way if they so choose. My hope is that this rhetorical decision renders this chronicle, generically, more of a memoir than a history of a place. Or at the very least I am offering myself, and those who do know the references, a rare privilege.
—The other night a friend said, half-jokingly (or maybe quarter? I’m still not sure), “Why do you hate Cleveland so much?” I hate Cleveland like I hate the American federal government: intensely, right now, but because of the values being squandered. I hate Cleveland like I hate myself when I don’t do the right things, and usually I think I’m pretty swell. In other words I love it as much as I hate it. On a work call this week a colleague who lives in Indianapolis said the tourism pitch for Rust Belt cities should be: “It’s okay here. It’s fine. You will have a good-enough time.” It’s funny, but that to me is a sad relationship to have with a city. Cleveland hurts, which is why it compels and fascinates.
—What am I missing? I would love to hear from readers about news I have not covered, issues I have not raised, empty warehouses I should photograph. Please click on the little comment icon below! Oh and also: what am I getting wrong? What thoughts to you have about my thoughts? Ditto the comments.
Finally, to those who have subscribed: thank you so much. It is enabling, and encouraging, and I take your support to heart, and want to provide something of value to you. Your faith that I will fumble my way to something worthy of actual cash money is enormously humbling. To those reading along for free: thanks for being real!
Cleveland Chronicles is a record of life in Cleveland throughout 2019 as filtered through the lens of the chronicler. Sign up to receive new posts via email. Subscribe to support the project or read previous posts. I take posts down from the web after a bit.