Ohio – ADDetrick.com

Frisch's Big Boy Mainliner, Cincinnati

As an English major and a student, I’m an enthusiast of signs and symbols. As an American, I’m fascinated with branding, logos, and mascots. So much so, I’ve always wanted a full-sized fiberglass Big Boy of my own. I’m always curious how well the merchandising promise of a brand correlates with its delivered product. More specifically, I’m interested in how well a brand’s image reflects the society of the time.

Case in point: the Frisch’s Big Boy Mainliner in Cincinnati. I was going to Cincinnati for a work meeting when I passed it on the way into town, and knew I had to stop and take a look as I was heading home.

Dave Frisch was born into a restaurant-owning family in 1905. He worked in his family’s restaurants for over 30 years until he opened the Mainliner as a drive-in in 1939. The restaurant was a drive-in, with only 8 seats inside and parking for 60 cars to be serviced by car hops. The Great Depression had (for the most part) ended, and despite growing concerns about Hitler’s rise in Europe, Americans were feeling optimistic. Auto manufacturers had spent a decade focusing on marketing automobiles to only the richest people, which had created a luxury auto market. The Douglas DC-3, released a few years before and nicknamed “The Mainliner”, was the first luxury tri-motor airplane, capable of crossing the continental United States in 16 hours. After a decade of economic despair, it was a time of opportunity and upward mobility.

So Dave Frisch reflected that in his restaurant. The Mainliner became a popular destination for a fast, quality meal, enjoyed in the confines of an increasingly-mobile society’s archetypal symbol – the automobile. And to welcome its customers was the sign: stainless steel, neon, and a model of the namesake DC-3.

The Mainliner became so popular that California restauranteur Bob Wian approached Frisch to turn the restaurant into one of his Big Boy franchises. Frisch converted the restaurant into a Big Boy in 1946, and eventually grew Frisch’s into one of the largest Big Boy restaurant groups in the world.

From the Banks of Grand River

Harpersfield Covered Bridge spans the Grand River, a tributary that collects Cleveland area water and drops it into Lake Eire. Built in 1868 in the wake of the Civil War, the bridge remained standing when floodwaters from the Great Flood of 1913 washed away the land at the north end of the bridge. Covered bridges stay erect by using a truss design which simultaneously holds the vertical length up by compressing some elements and putting tension on other elements, so there was no way to simply extending the bridge. Instead, what was created was just two independent bridges, connected together.

And so it was in 1913 that the steel expanse connected the settled northern bank with the covered bridge. It creates a unique, cobbled-together appearance, but remains on of the longest covered spans in Ohio.

And I almost climbed into the wrong car as I was leaving.
In front of the car’s owners.

They were not pleased.

Color TV

The Poolside Motel in Geneva-On-The-Lake, Ohio was not a particularly well-reviewed establishment before it closed. It was a standard 1950s-era motor lodge on the shores of Lake Erie: one-story, four-unit bungalows with doors that open to a centralized parking lot.

It’s hard to tell if the outdated signage was there for nostalgia, aesthetics, or inertia, but when “color TV” and “ice” are your key selling points, lodgers may be in for an interesting night.

Also, the pool was empty and covered in garbage.

Outside the Octagon

The history of octagon houses have a confusing history. Originating in the 1850’s, the North American versions were either designed as an homage to the pseudoscience of phrenology, or they were an unique approach to load-bearing walls. Others claim they were homes designed for the unitarian pious (all walls and rooms are of equal size and equidistant from each other), or for security from the rancor of the Civil War (frequent windows and vista porches made it easy to scout for approaching marauders).

Whatever the reason, the Gregg-Crites Octagon House in Circleville, Ohio was built in 1855 and sat on the main road between Columbus and Chillicothe, the original capitol city of Ohio. The original farm was sold in the early 2000s to Wal-Mart, and the house was slated for demolition to make way for a Wal-Mart Super Center. (Or, what we call “progress”.)

Fortunately, the Circleville residents were able to form a commission that moved the entire house to a safe location a few miles from its original home. They hope to renovate the house and turn it into a museum someday.