Though best known as a freelance writer covering the culinary and cultural scenes, J.R. McMillan has also worked as a script consultant, featured columnist, photographer, publicist, and public radio producer.
From local beloved to nationally renowned brands, he applies his background in film and television to create compelling and persuasive narratives. His immersive research and in-depth interviews reveal the hidden story, and his insights and expertise are featured in multiple mainstream and industry publications reaching a wide range of audiences.
He is an alumnus of the W. Page Pitt School of Journalism and Mass Communications at Marshall University and lives in Columbus, Ohio.
Originally published in the May 2020 issue of (614) Magazine
Musicians have been hit hard lately. Concerts are cancelled, auditoriums are empty, and curtains are closed indefinitely. But never tell Joe Peppercorn anything is impossible.
A decade ago, Peppercorn performed every Beatles song in chronological order — all 215 of them. It was a one-man show to top every one-man show before or since, one that’s become part of Columbus folklore and evolved into an annual event bringing together countless musicians and supporting artists. When we needed it most, Joe decided to repeat that first unlikely feat — simple, stripped down, and shared with the world from his living room.
“It was a lot like that first year. I thought I’d have a chance to prep the show a little more, but I was also figuring out how to livestream for the first time,” recalled Peppercorn. “I didn’t feel like anything completely went off the rails. I kind of thrive on chaos.”
Joe moved instinctively between guitar and piano, constructing drum loops on the fly, like Ringo Starr meets Reggie Watts. Fellow musicians joined in remotely by iPad, and several spontaneously showed up in his front yard, adding vocals and absent instruments from a microphone dropped out an open window. The visibly exhausted Peppercorn really did get by with a little help from his friends—and his three kids, who also helped close out the 12-hour marathon.
“I thought they’d be asleep, but they love Across the Universe and Golden Slumbers,” he noted. “It wasn’t planned. It was this beautiful moment that just happened.”
Fortunately, those who missed it can still find it on Facebook, a fitting soundtrack for social distancing and uncertain times. ▩
Originally published in the May 2020 issue of (614) Magazine
Though there is plenty of pain to go around, no industry has been more fundamentally disrupted than movie theaters, perhaps permanently. Exactly how bad is it? Studios have all but halted production and box office reporting has been suspended. Instead of celebrating their 100-year anniversary, AMC Theatres, the largest chain in the world, is hurtling toward bankruptcy.
No one wants to get into a contest of who has it worse, but when your entire business model is based on hundreds of strangers sitting elbow-to-elbow, there’s just no way to stay open when most of the country has been ordered to stay home.
But Columbus seems to find new ways everyday to get creative in a crisis, and our independent theater community is no exception. Though there is no shortage of content available from an ever-expanding arena of streaming services, watching a story unfold on an enormous screen as part of an audience is as absent as the aroma of fresh, buttered popcorn. Even though we may be a long way from anything approaching what once was, local theaters are finding innovative alternatives to stay connected to their loyal patrons, even if it sometimes feels like we’ve all been cast in a disaster movie.
“The virtual screening room isn’t new. We’ve been offering an on-demand channel as a way for people to see films they may have missed. Curating films supports our mission and also enhances our community,” explained Chris Hamel, president of the Gateway Film Center. “So when we were forced to suspend our normal programming, we just ramped up these opportunities and added our virtual screen.”
Independent theaters, specifically those that specialize in so-called arthouse features, have always been masters of improvisation without the deep budgets or blockbuster revenues of their mainstream counterparts. Now that notable nimbleness has become an appreciable asset. “Conversations from the Center” was another initiative that required rapid reinvention. The discussion of influential films and industry insights also moved online.
”I think we exceeded our expectations to some degree and we’ve got really great opportunities for the audience to engage moving forward,” Hamel revealed. “It doesn’t replace the cinema experience completely, but it is a nice way for us to continue to engage with our audience.”
For about the price of a typical ticket, you can buy a virtual one through their website, with a comparable percentage of proceeds going back to the theater. The process is a little different depending on the film and the distributor, but is very similar to renting a movie to stream at home with a limited viewing window. Selections aren’t exhaustive, but thoughtfully chosen as always. Features so far have included The Whistlers, a Romanian heist film with more than a hint of the Coen Brothers to the overdue backstory of the breakup of The Band, Once Were Brothers, a fitting bookend to Martin Scorcese’s The Last Waltz. If escape is more your speed, they’ve even offered a fascinating documentary on fungi and a critically-acclaimed collection of cat videos. There really is something for everyone.
“The indie film market was starting to pick back up. In January, we still had Parasite and 1917 and a lot of those films were still very strong and were able to carry through to the Oscars. Our virtual screenings are all films we would have shown anyway,” noted Jeremy Henthorn, theatre director at Drexel Theatre. “Our sci-fi marathon and series are postponed, not cancelled. If there is a bright side to all of this, presuming everyone is able to open by July or August, there will be a lot more options and choices to see later in the year. It’s always good to have something new for audiences.
While still considering virtual screenings, Studio 35 Cinema & Drafthouse recently launched their in-house kitchen, Fibonacci’s Pizzeria, and now serves craft pies, subs, and salads to-go. Both the Clintonville theater and their sister screen, Grandview Theater & Drafthouse, are filling growlers with your favorite craft beer, and will gladly pour some M&Ms over your tub of popcorn. Strand Theatre in Delaware is likewise offering drive-by concessions, virtual screenings, and their projectionist is even posting weekly film reviews and recommendations to keep patrons connected. The South Drive-In is selling discounted gift cards and may be among the first local theaters to reopen. After all, drive-ins are the original social distance cinema.
Motion pictures since their start have always been an art of collective experience. Though there are now a near infinite number of options available online and easy to stream, sitting on your couch still doesn’t replace the immersive intent, nor is that the expectation. But buying virtual tickets, a couple of tubs of popcorn, the occasional pizza or jug of beer, and a few gift cards will hopefully ensure your favorite Hollywood haunt is still around when we can once again gather in in the dark and become part of a shared story. ▩
For more on virtual screenings and other ways you can support your local theaters, please visit their websites and check social media, as details are subject to change.
Originally published in the April 2020 issue of (614) Magazine
The announcement was shocking, even to the pool of hardened reporters gathered in anxious anticipation. On March 12, Ohio Governor Mike DeWine ordered the closure of all schools in the state for at least three weeks to hopefully halt the spread of the novel coronavirus, also known as COVID-19.
With only a handful of confirmed cases, based largely on statistical models and patterns emerging from cities and countries around the world, Ohio was among the first to signal, almost prophetically, that life as we all knew it was about to change dramatically, perhaps forever.
Then skepticism suddenly turned to stunned silence as Ohio Department of Health Director Dr. Amy Acton stepped forward to reveal the possibility that more than 100,000 Ohioans were already carrying the virus.
But this dire presumption wasn’t delivered with cold calculation by a career bureaucrat who dithers or withers in front of the cameras. Instead, Dr. Amy Acton did something remarkable, in real time. In her signature white coat and without a whiff of wonk, she calmly and confidently broke down the math behind the decision and the prediction, at one point comparing the delay in reliable data to the light of a distant star whose brightness we can only see long after the moment has passed.
And with that, Ohioans discovered the light of a different kind of star, and her moment is now.
Even before Acton was a household name, she was already an unlikely hero. A physician since 1994, she honed both her approachable bedside manner and public policy persona at Nationwide Children’s Hospital and as an assistant professor at Ohio State. During her brief tenure at The Columbus Foundation, Acton was instrumental in raising nearly $2.5 million in just six weeks to combat youth homelessness, blowing past every expectation. It was a philanthropic success that was also hauntingly personal.
It isn’t without irony that as Ohio businesses close their doors, many for the last time, that Youngstown’s venerated daily newspaper, The Vindicator, published its final edition this past August with an intimate portrait of Acton. Then, she was still the local homecoming queen who had beaten the odds, gone on to college, ultimately becoming the top public health official in the state.
The “grit and grace” we see today, so noted by Doug Kridler, President and CEO of The Columbus Foundation, was undeniably born of a chaotic, often tragic, childhood. Acton’s parents separated when she was just three, and in the decade that followed before reuniting with her father, she lived in a constant state of uncertainty. This included living in more than a dozen places in as many years across the country, some less desirable than others; she lived once in an unfinished basement, and even spent a winter in a tent. Only after abuse at the hands of one of her mother’s string of boyfriends did life for Acton finally start to turn around. Her father was granted full custody, and she’s never seen her mother again.
But even this backstory only surfaced in retrospect. The newspaper’s website also shut down a day after the final edition hit the streets. No likes, shares, or tweets. Only later were the archives posted online, with that closing interview receiving overdue attention in recent weeks, much like Acton herself.
“Lots of powerful souls walk among us,” noted Todd Franko, former Editor in Chief of The Vindicator. “Last August, she walked in and walked out of our office, and no one knew her. They know her now.”
Yet in darkness, there is still light, with dutiful denizens across the state tuning in daily for afternoon “Wine with DeWine”. But even that fierce following may pale in comparison to the more than 50,000 members of Acton’s entirely unofficial Facebook fan club. The conversation waxes and wanes from harrowing accounts to rays of revelry, from the testimonials of healthcare providers on the frontline of the crisis to heated debate about which actress should portray Acton in some future Hollywood feature. (For those keeping score, Allison Janney, Dana Delany, and Anne Hathaway are currently the top casting contenders.) Local apparel company Homage also honored her with a t-shirt emblazoned with the words, “Not all heroes wear capes.”
Even Acton herself is not above public levity amid unprecedented circumstances. A photo from a recent morning meeting in the lower level of the statehouse went viral, with staffers seemingly orbiting a laughing Acton from a safe social distance. It was a rare and candid glimpse of the loyalty she fosters among the small army she inspires, no longer in anonymity.
Her candor coupled with compassion is at the heart of her appeal. The mother of six, one of whom offers her his own daily briefings on her online following from his home in Menlo Park, has been called “Ohio’s Mom” for the tough love that belies every escalating restriction that unfolds aimed at minimizing the worst case scenarios.
It’s the same honesty tempered with hope that won DeWine over barely a year ago. Acton neither sought nor expected to become the governor’s final, perhaps his most crucial, cabinet selection. In discussing the role with him, she offered an unvarnished, apolitical assessment of Ohio’s challenges and opportunities to improve public health, and prepare for unforeseen threats to it. Thankfully, he hired her anyway.
The hasty cancellation of in-person voting the day before the state’s primary and extension of absentee voting by mail was deemed politically untenable, until it wasn’t. After what was expected to be an uncontested delay erupted into a last-minute legal reversal, Acton’s authority to protect citizens in the midst of a public health emergency found precedent in an obscure provision of the Ohio Revised Code from 1886 in response to an outbreak of tuberculosis.
Now, Ohio leads the nation in its response, with fellow states following suit, though not without criticism. The impact on businesses directly and indirectly is as controversial as it is unavoidable. DeWine is charged with an impossible task, desperately trying to land a plane safely, despite the fact that it’s coming apart in the air. There will be casualties, actual and economic. But reducing the former requires increasing the latter. Acton is not only his copilot, but is additionally charged with assuring passengers that they are doing everything they can just to survive.
This is why we need Acton right now; she’s a guiding star in what often seems like an endless night. When human nature and history tend to suggest turning on each other, she’s quick to remind us that we’re all in this together. She’s the hero we didn’t know was in our midst, the same powerful soul who walked up to a podium and into our lives barely a month ago practically unknown, but who is now a part of our daily routine. When all of this is behind us, we’re going to look back on how we have changed. And when that day comes, we will surely have Acton to thank for telling us exactly what we needed to hear, when we needed to hear it, just to get through another day. We should all be forever grateful for her words.
“I don’t want you to be afraid. I’m not afraid. I am determined,” Acton famously confessed. “All of us are going to have to sacrifice. And I know someday, we’ll be looking back and wondering what was it we did in this moment.” ▩
Originally published in the April 2020 issue of (614) Magazine
Just getting by is the new normal for the once bustling Columbus culinary scene. Some are still struggling to make it from one day to the next, while others have shuttered their establishments entirely for now, maybe forever. With the future as uncertain as the spread of the coronavirus that prompted such dramatic measures, a few creative solutions and lessons have emerged to help our favorite haunts weather the weeks, perhaps months ahead.
Ray Ray’s Hog Pit | rayrayshogpit.com
Locally known and nationally renowned, James Anderson’s beloved barbecue might be the best prescription for troubled times. With an already abbreviated menu of best sellers and rotating specials, brick and mortar counterparts would be wise to consider running their operations more like a food truck. Light, tight, and low frills—just like any legit pit.
Though the Land-Grant location is temporarily closed, Clintonville and Westerville remain open with added procedures to ensure patrons maintain minimal direct interaction, like a chain and new signage to make handoffs less hands-on and transactions less face-to-face.
“The taproom generates 90 percent of our business at Land-Grant. It was a no-brainer to close from the very beginning,” Anderson noted. “They close on Thanksgiving and Christmas, so we’ve always gone with their hours. We moved everyone up to the other two, which are going strong and surviving just fine.”
Suggesting cards over cash, changing gloves between any back and forth exchanges, and ensuring longtime customers know what to expect through social media have become standard practices for most businesses. But Ray Ray’s is still trying to keep the experience original and authentic, even as everyday interactions grow farther apart.
“We’ve started doing call-ahead ordering with no minimum, encouraging people to prepay, so there is less hand-to-hand contact,” he noted. “There’s also a 6-foot chain at the front of the line. You have to kind of reach for your order to get to the window. We’re protecting customers and employees that way.”
Operating limited days and limited hours have always been part of his business strategy, as is a more limited menu with only those items that always sell well making the cut. Staffing is also a factor facing restaurants that remain operational, often with more workers than they need or too few to make do.
“Right now, I have a full staff, so I’m going to have a full menu. I’ve already seen some competitors paring their menus down, which I think is a smart idea,” Anderson revealed. “But we’re giving all of our staff the option to work or not. If they don’t feel comfortable in this crisis, there’s no boss telling anyone they have to come to work.”
Stauf’s Coffee Roasters | staufs.com
The pioneer of coffee culture in Columbus continues to pull espresso shots, steam milk, and bag beans—albeit with some apparent accommodations. To-go and curbside pickup are now standard, with an expanded menu of commodities to hopefully help patrons procure provisions and simple staples without a separate trip to the grocery store.
Blurring the line between supply chains may sound like an obvious approach to address supermarket scarcity. But Mark Swanson, president of Stauf’s Coffee Roasters, knew launching an untested retail strategy amid upheaval in everyone’s daily coffeehouse ritual required rethinking nearly everything.
“We didn’t waste any time and started adjusting procedures more than a month ago. One of the things I love about our team is that they’re creative and flexible,” explained Swanson. “If anyone had an idea to improve what we were doing, we discussed it and implemented it immediately. Then we let our customers know why we were making changes to help keep everyone healthy.”
Offering milk, eggs, and bread for easy pickup, as well as meal kits, soups, salads, and such isn’t an end run around the grocery. It’s a stopgap solution, especially for items that may be tough to find for a while, like diary-free milk alternatives, perishables, and personal hygiene products that may seem incidental until they’re essential.
“We still have sandwiches, pastries, and cookies. We’ll start doing growlers of iced coffee as it gets warmer,” he noted. “What we’re trying to do is become a place where you can grab a couple meals and maybe six essential things without bumping into people at the grocery. It’s all about reducing risk by reducing exposure.”
Less conspicuous changes required delaying an expansion at the Cup O’ Joe in Clintonville and building up the small-scale side of their commercial coffee roasting business by offering free shipping on beans by the pound mailed directly to customers. They’ve even added a clever contraption in stores to fill bags of beans with less direct contact.
“Everyone at Stauf’s has worked in the service industry. We’ve all been baristas, servers, and delivery drivers. We’ve been out there on the frontlines,” Swanson noted. “Our changes come from a place of empathy. We know exactly what would have scared us. It’s why information and transparency are so important for our staff and our customers.”
King Gyros | kinggyros.com
Ethnic eateries thrive by offering entrées even accomplished cooks can’t replicate at home. But unlike the strip mall spots many select, this Mediterranean mainstay happens to have a drive-thru window, one that has become a life raft for the business and customers eager to remain connected through the current crisis.
Like many first-generation immigrants, Yianni Chalkias grew up working in his family’s restaurant. But when he started looking for the right place to open his own three decades ago, what we now call a “fast casual” concept, the former Taco Bell left little room for tables. “My dad had a full-service restaurant. But when I was looking for someplace, I knew I wanted to have a drive-thru,” Chalkias recalled. “We’ve always offered the same quality and service with our drive-thru and takeout as we do with dine-in. Everything is beautiful when you open up the box. It’s the experience customers expect.”
An extensive remodel added an expansive dining room and patio that now sit empty. But building a robust takeout business and an exhaustive menu around shared ingredients helped increase selection and control costs, both smart strategies during tough times.
“People crave what they can’t make at home. Like our kabobs, char-grilled salmon, and calamari — or specials like our lamb shanks and Greek meatballs. But vegetarians love our falafel and pita with hummus or roasted eggplant,” he noted. “Sometimes people don’t believe we make like 20 different desserts in house. But we do. They may only go out once a week, so ordering dessert makes it more of a special occasion.”
Stepping up their social media presence has proven pivotal as well. Facebook posts and Instagram remind longtime patrons about hours and specials. Short videos also share the familiar faces of staff customers are used to seeing behind the counter, whom many admit they miss most of all.
“I started on Instagram as a way to get out of the kitchen, but it’s become a business tool. I do a lot of polls, just to see what people think about how we’re doing,” Chalkias revealed. “These are vulnerable times. So you have to be sure you maintain your connection to your customers. They’re our family too, and you always take care of family.” ▩
Please call ahead or check social media for current menus and hours of operations, as website information may not reflect recent changes.
Originally published in the Spring 2020 issue of Stock & Barrel
In 1929, the iconic, art deco skyscraper we now know as LeVeque Tower was more than just a monument of modern engineering. It was a landmark visible up to 20 miles away in the early days of passenger aviation, and why Transcontinental Air Transport chose Columbus as its new Midwest crossroads. Promising travel from New York to Los Angeles in 48 hours through a network of trains and planes, aircraft emblazoned with the “TAT” logo flew low over “Flytown”, a working class community of immigrants who figuratively and literally lived in the shadow of the latest, lavish addition to the city skyline.
Italian, Greek, and Lebanese neighbors mingled among the Irish who preceded them, as well as African Americans fleeing the Deep South. Though the community is all but forgotten, ultimately leveled by urban planners in the name of progress, a different kind of monument remains — because this was also the year that Pete and Philomena Corrova opened TAT Ristorante Di Famiglia. Long since relocated to the corner of James and Livingston where Bexley and Whitehall meet, it’s still thriving nearly a century later.
“My father saw the planes overhead with TAT on the side, so that’s what he decided to name his restaurant. About ten years ago I started telling everybody it means ‘Take Any Table’,” said Jimmy Corrova, whose parents’ original restaurant has become part of local culinary folklore. “My father was the first to bring pizza to Columbus. In the old country, you’d take leftover dough, stretch it, squeeze a little tomato on it, add some basil, maybe anchovy, and that was it. Now, you can put anything on a pizza.”
Family restaurants rarely fail so much as fade away. Not so with the Corrovas. Jimmy, his wife Dolores, their children and grandchildren are all part of the TAT legacy. Jimmy still insists on seasoning the sauces himself, and Dolores arrives hours before the doors open every day. Daughters Marianne and Michelle run the front and back of the house, respectively. They know their regulars by name, and often their orders before they’re seated. It’s a passion and consistency that can’t be bought, only handed down from one generation to the next.
The Corrova influence spread throughout Central Ohio, from the former Antone’s in Worthington to Gatto’s in Clintonville, both started by extended family members. Even the Florentine in Franklinton was started by cousins. Jimmy revealed he nearly bought the business back in 2016 when it closed, lamenting the loss of the west side landmark.
“I’ll never knock another restaurant. Everyone has their own tastes, but we prefer to do things the way we always have,” Jimmy explained. “All of our ravioli and spaghetti are homemade. We still seal the edges with a fork and cut our own spaghetti. We roll every meatball by hand.”
The menu is exhaustive and inclusive, and far more than just the classics. From piccata to polenta, salmon to scallops, there are even two kinds of lasagna. The first is exactly what you would expect—expertly executed. But there’s also a “special lasagna” with a recipe modified due to rationing during WWII that proved so popular, they never stopped serving it. The only thing you’ll find that hasn’t been on the menu since before fenders had flares are several gluten-free options, evidence that TAT isn’t opposed to change, but hasn’t lost touch with why it’s still around either. Perhaps the only other item that may seem out of place is their famous “poor boy”. If you want the story behind the signature sandwich, no one tells it better than the Sicilian who invented it, and even has the trademark to prove it.
“When I was in high school, there were a bunch of us Italians and a couple of Irish boys who all sat at the same table for lunch. But we got tired of the sloppy joes and hot dogs they served,” Jimmy recalled. “So Eddie Carfagna brought real deli meat from his family’s grocery, I brought the Italian bread, and we all made sandwiches. We were all poor, so we called it a “poor boy”. After I graduated, we added them to the menu and sold them for 50 cents. We’d sell them by the dozens. We had them on special for our 90th Anniversary last year and sold 2,000 in a weekend.”
Not to be confused with its creole cousin the po’ boy, of which he was unaware at the time, Jimmy had the foresight to trademark the name “poor boy” and its constituent ingredients. They’re still a big seller, and were among the earliest foray into TAT’s brisk takeout business. But success breeds imitators, including a guy who soon started shipping frozen sandwiches made from cheaper cuts of meat to local grocery chains under the same name. Jimmy sent him a cease and desist, and ultimately sued him for $100k.
“Word got out about the lawsuit, and I was at Romeo Siri’s in Grandview when I was asked outside and told to drop the case because it had been fixed,” Jimmy laughed. “I sued him anyway and I won.” The judge awarded Jimmy $96,000, but it took him six years to collect — not counting his own payoffs to “fix” the case previously fixed against him. “I only ended up with $10k. But that’s more than I had, and it’s still my sandwich.”
Everything about TAT is authentic and on-brand. A step inside is a step back in time, from the service to the soundtrack. Loyal staff measure their tenure in decades, and songs from the ‘50s fill the family-style dining room that echoes a bygone era. Jimmy dresses the part of dapper don as though casual Friday was a conspiracy — and if he shakes your hand once, he’ll likely remember your face for the rest of his days.
The family quips they may need to open a drive-thru, noting a car’s recent close encounter with their men’s room wall. But they’re in no hurry to change anything, and that’s probably what customers appreciate most. Their salad dressings are so beloved, they don’t just sell them by the bottle, but ship them all over the country. One faithful patron was so concerned about missing her favorite meals while out of town for several weeks, TAT actually prepared her regular order in advance and froze enough so she could take them with her. When she passed away, they dedicated the booth where she sat and hung her picture next to it. Customers eventually become part of the Corrova family.
There may be no more fitting metaphor for TAT’s longevity than the giant, commercial mixer they still in use in the back of the kitchen. Jimmy bought it second hand for $50 from a local bakery decades ago, but it turned out to be so heavy he needed a tow truck to move it. Then the owner didn’t have the heart to charge him for it, so he ended up getting it free. They’re still using today, but Jimmy honestly didn’t know how old it really was until our interview. Upon closer inspection, we found a weathered brass plaque that read, “Century Machine Company, Cincinnati, Ohio, August 22, 1922”.
The irony did not escape Jimmy Corrova. “If you build it right, it will probably last forever.” ▩
TAT Ristorante Di Famiglia is located at 1210 S James Road. For more on their menu and history, visit tatitalianrestaurantcolumbus.com
Originally published in the March 2020 issue of (614) Magazine
Photo Provided
When planning any getaway, the most crucial question that often goes unasked is what do you hope to escape, or discover? Cherry Valley Hotel may offer the answers to both.
With 200 well-appointed rooms, purposefully preserved accents, distinct dining options, an on-site day spa, and the industry’s only enclosed arboretum in the country, many may ask why they haven’t heard of Cherry Valley Hotel before. That’s because Newark’s newest hotel is nearly three decades old.
“This renovation was top to bottom, down to the studs and the cement. Everything came out except the stone and the wood that were signature parts of Cherry Valley,” explained Patrick Beaver, director of sales and marketing, and an Ohio State grad who recently returned to the area to oversee the transformation. “We considered staying open and doing it in phases, but there was just too much that needed attention. ”
Originally intended as a retreat center and training facility, the former Cherry Valley Lodge was actually owned and operated by State Farm Insurance. (No kidding.) Subsequent acquisition and renovation added an onsite waterpark many may recall named CoCo Key to the amenities, an endeavor that eventually led to diminishing returns and a downward spiral in revenue that required a radical reinvention.
Unlike most destination accomodations in its class, Cherry Valley Hotel has both local owners and national owners, a team of insight and investment that decided to close the struggling lodge and waterpark for the better part of a year. It was a $20 million decision that carried inherent risks. Hotels that close entirely for such extensive updates often fail to reopen at all.
“Once the lodge shifted from a group hotel to a leisure hotel, it hurt our event business and most of the money coming from the waterpark was going back into maintaining the waterpark — but not the lodge,” Beaver revealed. “We changed our name from ‘Lodge’ to ‘Hotel’ to set ourselves apart from Mohican or Deer Creek. It was an early concept decision. Kalahari and Great Wolf Lodge do waterparks well, but we wanted to distinguish ourselves from being either a lodge or a waterpark. We think we’ve found our niche.”
That niche is hardly narrow. With 60,000 square-feet of event and conference space, Cherry Valley Hotel offers a more affordable alternative for trade shows, yet a scale that still accommodates wedding parties of any size, particularly those that exceed that capacity of typical venues. But perhaps the most underappreciated draw for guests is the serenity of the surroundings, a stark contrast from the bustle of Columbus. The original building was intentionally designed as an octagon, mimicking the geometry of the nearby earthworks built by the indigenous Hopewell people centuries ago. The botanical gardens and lake at the center still evoke fond memories among couples and families who return for reunions, or just a weekend away to unwind or reconnect.
But unlike many hotel dining options that tend to be overpriced and underwhelming, Cherry Valley Hotel offers a menu and atmosphere that rival the best the hospitality industry has to offer with a focus on elevated fare that isn’t intimidating, and options to accommodate any preference or palate.
“Everything on our menu is made from scratch, and we feature local ingredients whenever possible. We look at trends, but aren’t afraid to put our own twist on them,” noted Robert Olinger, executive chef and Newark native. “Our cauliflower steaks are seasoned and coated in Greek-style yogurt made in Ohio, then we slow roast them to just the right char before slicing them.”
The lodge turned hotel technically operates four distinct dining destinations. Craftsman Kitchen & Terrace offers a classic yet contemporary restaurant complemented by the Lobby Bar’s more casual setting for creative cocktails. O&E Taphouse features both craft drafts and bottled beers with its own menu, while the Granville Pantry offers coffee and light breakfast to go or on their patio. But the first three are where you’ll find the unexpected.
“I don’t want to be known for our burgers, but we use five cuts of Ohio beef ground in-house daily,” Olinger confessed, noting their burgers are often a frequent foray for first-time diners. Plant-forward patrons will likewise swoon over their burgers made from a blend of roasted peas, mushrooms, beets, and chilis. “Our fish and chips are almost as popular. We use Lake Erie walleye, beer-battered with lime zest, and serve it with baton fries we steam and chill before they’re sliced and fried. It’s the most light and delicate fry you’ll ever find.”
Utility and versatility are the measure of any credible kitchen, and Cherry Valley Hotel epitomizes both. The same fontina and white cheddar sauce you’ll find drizzled on the cottage fries with kimchi is also in the kids mac and cheese, the chorizo fondue, as well as the lobster cavatelli. The kitchen presses each pasta shell by hand, and there’s a rhythm to doing it right. Oligner insists the secret is rolling them to classical music—and if his offering is evidence, he may be right.
Whether it’s the wild boar sliders, cut with just enough pork butt to tame the gaminess, topped with crunchy daikon slaw with a hint of watermelon, or the perfectly pungent French onion soup, simmered low and slow for 48 hours with stout, sourdough, and Gruyère in humble harmony, there is nothing ordinary anywhere on the menu. Even their chicken wings are inspired, serving the whole wing three ways: Newark hot, country rub, or “buckeye” style with a dark barbecue and tahini sauce sprinkled with black sesame that somehow evokes the intersection of chocolate and peanut butter. Weird, but wonderful.
“Our most hands-on dish is our ancient grain pilaf, with toasted farro, quinoa, grilled artichokes, feta, olives, and a lemon curd. You spoon it into butter lettuce cups, like a taco,” Olinger explained matter-of-factly, despite the dish’s deceptive complexity. “The Black Forest chocolate cheesecake is served upside down, crust on top, with a cherry reduction and cherry ‘pearls’—like little cherry caviar.”
It‘s this keen attention to detail and daring variation that shows in every dish, and why Cherry Valley Hotel invites neighbors to dine and embibe with them at any of their eateries, even if you don’t spend the night. But with culinary attractions like “Truffle Week” or making your own s’mores by the fire in the arboretum from house-made marshmallows folded with goat cheese covered in ganache, you may come for lunch or dinner often enough to consider booking a weekend away, though still close to home.
“If you check in on Friday, you could have dinner at the taphouse to start off, then grab and go Saturday morning. You could have lunch in the Craftsman, dinner in the Lobby Bar in the evening, and then room service for breakfast on Sunday,” Beaver chidded. “You could stay the whole weekend and never eat at the same place twice. ▩
For more on Cherry Valley Hotel, including their menu and amenities, visit cherryvalleyhotel.com
Originally published in the March 2020 issue of (614) Magazine
Photo Provided
Cultural critics used to dismiss video games as an isolated obsession. That’s hardly the case anymore, if it ever was. Even back when neighborhood kids used to huddle around an Atari for hours, it was always social, competitive, and often collaborative.
Now with most households capable of streaming data at speeds that would probably melt a dialup modem, online gaming has come of age, and those same critics are now forced to reckon with millions of players engaged in an emerging entertainment medium that scarcely existed a generation ago.
“It’s a completely different landscape today than when we launched Major League Gaming. But even then, we predicted that video games would have their own version of the NFL,” explained Adam Apicella, CEO of Esports Engine, the Columbus-based startup built on nearly two decades of industry expertise. “It’s what we set out to create back then.”
That early insight wasn’t far from foreshadowing. Through a series of expansions and acquisitions, what started as Major League Gaming in 2002, better known now as MLG, has become a leading player in a global phenomenon—with Esports Engine at the edge of an evolution, backed by gaming industry veterans, long-time collaborators, and the former CEO of ESPN and NFL Network.
Launching Esports Engine in Columbus was always an obvious choice, even if not for Ohio University graduate Apicella’s familiarity with the market and the proximity to Ohio State and dozens of additional colleges and universities throughout Central Ohio. Even MLG’s 2014 investment in a dedicated, 14,000 square-foot, live competition arena in an empty warehouse that used to be an indoor bounce house, was no less ironic. Gaming had grown up.
“Back in the late nineties, early 2000s, multiplayer games first started to pop onto the scene. I think the first I remember was James Bond GoldenEye on the Nintendo. You could have four players on one TV,” he explained. “Publishers started to realize these multiplayer components would create longevity for their games. You’d sell a ton of copies, but after they’d beaten the game, they’d put it away and not play as much after that. Multiplayer changed everything.”
A ton of copies is not entirely hyperbole. The same month Esports Engine opened its doors this past October, Activision Blizzard released Call of Duty: Modern Warfare. It was the most successful digital launch in the company’s history, generating $600 million in the first three days. For comparison, that’s nearly twice the worldwide, opening weekend box office for the final installment of the Star Wars saga. Apicella knows the industry and the stakes well. When MLG was acquired by Activision Blizzard in 2015, he was promoted to vice president, and helped design the launch of earlier Call of Duty releases.
“Multiplayer is the bedrock of esports, and publishers saw players would keep playing. Now when a game launches, people still play it years later, spending money within the game through microtransactions,” he revealed. “It’s a completely different line of revenue that didn’t exist when I first started with Major League Gaming.”
Apicella admits that despite concerns about over-hiring in anticipation of brisk business from the moment they launched, they have already doubled the size of their staff in just six months. Created as a one-stop production powerhouse for organizing large-scale exhibitions and competitions, he soon discovered an unexpected demand as a consultancy for those struggling to host their own events, challenges he understood firsthand.
“When we first started out, we had trouble booking venues. We’d have to prepay in full because people thought it was some sort of scam. They didn’t believe this was a real thing,” he recalled. “Now we have cities begging, commissions and convention and visitors bureaus fighting, to bring our business to their markets.”
Despite cities in the US and around the world eager to get in on the ground floor of live, competitive gaming, Columbus was still the right fit for Esports Engine. After considering several sites, Apicella found Smith Brothers Hardware “checked all of the boxes”. Hosting clients from Riot Games and Microsoft to colleagues from Activision Blizzard, the proximity to downtown, the Short North, and the campuses of Ohio State and Columbus State was too perfect to pass up.
“Everyone wants to reach 18 to 30-year-olds and that’s our sweet spot, and we have an epicenter of that demographic right in our backyard. We’ve built out a newsroom style studio, like MTV used to have with Total Request Live, where you can see what we’re producing from the lobby,” he explained. “We can have meetings down here in a premium space, and then go up to Juniper afterward, which is one of the coolest spaces in the city. It was important for us to have an office that was a representation of Columbus when we bring in people who may not be familiar with the city.”
But gaming is more than just college kids blowing off steam or skipping class, and it’s a misperception the industry pushes back as it moves forward; the stereotype of a sedentary, socially awkward kid playing video games in his mom’s basement doesn’t match their broader metrics. Women are among the fastest growing segment of gamers, and the collaborative component of most games forges real friendships that defy typical social stratification.
“Our big, live events are where they meet up, like any sporting event, whether they are players or spectators. Tens of thousands of people, so it’s not a solitary endeavor,” he noted. “Gaming transcends a lot of things. It’s blind to race, gender, socioeconomic status, physical characteristics. It’s inclusive. Anyone can play and compete.”
Despite the enormous economic implications, there’s still a modest, Midwest sense of purpose dating back to the early days of Major League Gaming that resides in the DNA of Esports Engine, and a culture that continues to permeate the entire industry.
“There’s a diversity in this space, men and women playing on the same team as equals. And there’s a lot of crossover,” he noted. “You know what’s awesome? Watching a six-foot-seven NFL player standing behind some skinny kid, going nuts watching him play, cheering him on. It’s a reversal that really doesn’t exist outside our arena.▩
For more about Esports Engine, visit esportsengine.gg
Originally published in the February 2020 issue of (614) Magazine
Photo by Rebecca Tien
Aslyne Rodriguez is pitch perfect, though not necessarily in any sort of musical sense. Her passion for transportation innovation demands immediate attention in any room, and by the time she’s done making the case for bringing equity to employment through a tiny fleet of commuter buses, folks often find themselves singing the same tune.
But when she was handed the microphone at a gathering of stakeholders at Rev1 Ventures discussing the city’s ongoing efforts to increase economic inclusion, the set list suddenly changed. Instead of delivering her polished pitch on urban mobility to a capacity crowd, she was overcome by her own unlikely origin story. She reflected on her grandparents’ journey from Puerto Rico with only an elementary education, and welled up as she revealed her grandmother’s dream of opening a cake shop that never came to be. Raised near Youngstown, her parents both worked for the local school district—her mother a guidance counselor, her father a school bus mechanic. It was an early epiphany, realizing the parents of the kids who rode those same buses to school everyday often struggled to get to work themselves, that would become the inspiration and driving force behind EmpowerBus.
“That was a raw moment. Something came over me and I needed to tell that story,” confessed Rodriguez, founder of EmpowerBus. “There are communities with the desire to be entrepreneurs but they don’t have the pathway. Not everyone can do a friends and family round of fundraising for their startup. I’m only one generation removed from coming here with limited education and not knowing the language.”
What started with a single 25-passenger bus that shuttled employees from the Morse Road corridor to New Albany has in two years pivoted to a more nimble 14-passenger model with routes throughout Central Ohio, including the addition just last month of an autonomous shuttle service in the underserved neighborhood of Linden as part of the Smart Columbus initiative. It wasn’t a contract she pursued, but one that found her based on a reputation of earnest intentions in a community that can prove short on trust after decades of disappointment.
“We have been loved by the community in a way most companies aren’t. But we’re still very careful about how we use the term ‘social enterprise.’ People think, ‘Oh, you’re a nonprofit and you do good work.’ ‘No, we’re a for-profit business that wants to do good work,’” she explained. “In some circles of Columbus, social enterprises are still misunderstood. We want to grow our business, and take care of our people. It’s how we expand to serve more communities.”
Like most midsize cities, Columbus wasn’t created for cars, but evolved to rely on them almost exclusively. Half a century of urban flight only amplified our cultural dependency on single-occupancy vehicles. Recent years have seen an overdue disruption in transportation, from Uber and Lyft to scooters and self-driving vehicles. But depending on any of those to get to work, an internship, or a doctor’s appointment reliably is dicey at best and undeniably cost prohibitive. For those of more modest means, the transportation revolution is still leaving them behind, and the face of who is left out is changing.
“Everyday in America, 10,000 adults turn 65 years old. They all don’t need shared transportation, but they may be taking care of aging parents who do — and they could soon too, or may just want to opt-out of driving,” she explained. “They call it the ‘Silver Tsunami’. But people are also moving back into cities, they want walkability and maybe don’t want to have or need a car.”
The dynamics of demographics are changing all around. A relatively recent return to city centers has actually reduced the pool of potential employees for companies with warehouses beyond suburbia. Bus routes tend to cover the hours and destinations of those heading into downtown, not out of it. It’s a gap EmpowerBus closes, often cutting travel times by municipal buses in half with fewer stops, and with routes and a scope that have both expanded to bring employees in rural Licking county closer to Columbus, as well as transport employees from the Southeast side to destinations in Delaware.
“How do we get people to a job that helps them advance their lives? Workforce is still a central conversation for us,” Rodriguez noted. “Maybe they are working a job they can walk to that pays them $10 an hour, but maybe with transportation they can get to a job that pays $17 an hour with benefits and a 401k? That’s a big deal, it changes their lives.”
Mobility means more than just transportation, and Rodriguez is the first to admit her ambitions are audacious. Recent partnerships with Spectrum and Accenture will introduce an educational component to EmpowerBus during the ride with tablets as teaching tools. Second-chance employment for those exiting incarceration combined with low unemployment create a catalyst for hiring that wouldn’t happen without access to locations that are desperate for workers, but often in areas where they are in short supply.
“Smart Columbus prompted a broader conversation about workforce transportation. A lot of companies created ‘mobility ambassadors’ to discuss opportunities they wouldn’t have considered otherwise,” she revealed. “We’re also a logistics hub with a lot of manufacturing and distribution that happens here, and the market is tight. Employers are more open now to second-chance employment than they have been in the past. But how do those potential employees get to a job that allows them to restart?”
As with any startup, the future is where the rubber hits the road. Helping prospective employers identify “opportunity zones” based on their current workforce, or simply reducing the demand and cost for employee parking, illustrate the balance of creative and comprehensive solutions the company can offer — more than just in Columbus. Invitations to expand to cities elsewhere in Ohio, as well as surrounding states, show just how far and wide word has spread about EmpowerBus, its founder, and her dream. Aslyne Rodriguez moves people.
“The next step for EmpowerBus is to fulfill everything we set out to do and see what that looks like at scale. Our goal is to deliver upward mobility for all by providing dignified, reliable, on-time transportation to work, education, and healthcare,” she explained. “Expanding into another city and just scraping by isn’t a strategy. We’re a startup that has bootstrapped it so far, and we have to decide if we’re going to go big or grow incrementally. But for now, we’re investing in our people and processes, so when the time comes to scale up, we’ll be ready.” ▩
For more information on EmpowerBus, visit empowerbus.com
Originally published in the January 2020 issue of (614) Magazine
Don’t believe those who deny Columbus is a city defined by its pizza as much as any other industry. Dating back nearly a century from off-the-menu offerings appealing exclusively to Italian immigrants to the avant garde ingredients that reimagine the familiar format, our pizza has always been more craft than commodity, and often a family affair that also dates back decades.
Ezzo isn’t the first name that comes to mind when you think of Columbus pizza, but it probably should be. What started in upstate New York four generations ago in a family grocery store that stuffed its own sausage has grown into perhaps the most pervasive and prolific premium pepperoni purveyor in the world, run entirely from the company’s recently expanded facility on the city’s far westside. Former Ohio State wide receiver Bill Ezzo grew the brand after the family business relocated to Columbus from Indiana in 1978, a legacy his sons Darren and Jon now share and enthusiastically embrace. Both are integral to daily operations, but Darren has slowly become the unapologetic ambassador for an unlikely empire.
“As kids, we were always driving with our dad to pizzerias. Tom Angeletti’s father was always around. He and our dad were tight so we would go to Ange’s or Capuano’s. We actually knew the people who became the namesakes of Columbus pizza,” recalled Darren. “I grew up a block away from Rubino’s. As soon as I was old enough to hang out with my friends, we used to walk from Bexley High School, pool our money, and buy a couple of pizzas and play pinball. That was a big part of my childhood.”
The rest of the country has finally started to figure out that Columbus pizza isn’t simply distinguished by the crust and the cut, but the toppings as well. As indelible as the blend of cheese or sauce recipes is the pepperoni. Not that flat nonsense the national chains sling on triangular slices. So-called “cup and char” pepperoni that curls up in the oven as the casing cooks to a crispy edge contrasting the savory center. It’s a difference old school mom and pop shops and a rising tide of craft pizzerias favor over cheaper options from multinational, processed food conglomerates.
“The reason our customers are so loyal is because we don’t compromise on ingredients. Every commodity pepperoni manufacturer uses pink slime to reduce cost and boost their lean protein because they use trimmings instead of muscle meat. We use shoulders and cheeks, that’s it,” he noted. “Our competitors have started to cut their pepperoni thicker trying to get it to cup like ours. But that just means our pepperoni offers better coverage, even if it costs a little more per case.”
Though Ezzo sells several varieties of pepperoni, and a spectacular sliced sausage, it’s their cup and char that remains their most beloved product, and an elusive one for home chefs hoping to up their game. Ezzo only sells to places that serve pizza, not retail customers. But their signature slices are so sought after, there’s actually a somewhat secret network of online outlets that somehow procure pepperoni by the case, then sell it by the pound—an unofficial pizza underground.
Pizza as most of us know it is largely an American invention with distinct regional differences. During an excursion to Italy, Darren unwittingly arrived in the tiny town of Terracina on a religious feast day. Without a taxi to be found to his destination, he ended up sharing a less familiar pizza at the train station with some locals—a simple focaccia with just a splash of sauce and a little shaved parm—a stark departure from a cracker-thin crust and toppings so thick they fall off the edge.
“There’s something in-between those two things that is the perfect pizza. I really think you should be able to see the sauce under the cheese, a balance of ingredients that doesn’t bury any one thing,” he opined. “It’s okay to experiment. If people didn’t, everyone’s pizza would be the same. It doesn’t matter where you are, or if you put pineapple or fresh cut flowers on it, so long as you make it your own.”
Darren isn’t a reluctant or reclusive ambassador, logging more time in the air than an astronaut and more miles in the past few years pitching prospects and converting clientele than a round trip to the Moon. Though he still prefers to drive to cities like Philadelphia, Chicago, Detroit, Nashville, and New York, lesser known pizza joints from Portland to Pakistan, Denver to Dubai, aren’t exactly accessible by car. Wherever he can’t reach easily by planes, trains, and automobiles, he relies heavily on the internet to help advance the brand.
“One of my ex-girlfriends works at Google. When I was wondering if I should start an Instagram, she said, ‘Why wouldn’t you? You’re out eating pizza anyway, you might as well document it.’ I didn’t think anyone would be interested in following a meat grinder,” he chided. “It turns out pizza tourism is a real thing, and every time I post a photo of someplace that uses our pepperoni, I get more followers and they get more customers.”
As with any premium producer of authentic foods, quality control is crucial. A recent recall of some Ezzo products—not unlike an occasional Jeni’s Ice Cream recall — is indicative of just how diligent those standards are. Darren revealed the affected products never left the production facility, and the expanded recall was entirely precautionary. In fact, Ezzo customers, and their customers as well, are so fiercely loyal to Ezzo, the biggest concern for most was how quickly they would receive more stock, including Tom Angeletti of Ange’s Pizza.
“Tom was actually my first boss. I used to work at Ange’s on Yearling as a teenager. He once told me I was the slowest pizza maker in America. I decided I’d stick to making the dough after that,” Darren confessed. “Tom is practically family. I’ve known him my whole life. That’s also what sets Ezzo apart. We’re as passionate about pizza as our customers. But they’re also family, and our family keeps getting bigger.” ▩
Originally published in the January 2020 issue of (614) Magazine
Photo by Brian Kaiser
Being at the right place at the right time is rare in any industry. Jeff Smith is the exception several times over.
An affable ambassador and native son of Columbus, Smith’s infatuation with illustration and storytelling emerged early and in equal measure, creating his first characters when he was five which evolved into complete comics by the time he was 10. The Columbus College of Art & Design helped hone his craft, and the prototype for his acclaimed series BONE appeared in Ohio State’s student newspaper The Lantern at length. Just as independent comics were breaking into the mainstream, the self-published creator became both a folk hero and a rock star of the emerging scene, inspiring artists and earning industry accolades, including ten Eisners, essentially the comic world’s equivalent of the Academy Awards.
But there were also some setbacks just now being set right. A failed Nickelodeon effort to adapt BONE for television in the ‘90s, followed by a similarly stalled big-screen project by Warner Brothers, ironically paralleled the saga of Smith’s cartoon characters navigating a foreign landscape in an unforgiving world. But Smith took all of it in stride, and bided his time. This past October, Netflix announced the long-awaited animated series fans new and old had been long-denied, a project that just as easily may not have happened. Much like Smith’s history of impeccable timing, he seems to have arrived again at just the right moment in popular culture.
“I made a deal with Warner Brothers a decade ago, and they hadn’t done anything with it. They optioned it for two years, but I wasn’t particularly happy with the direction it was taking and didn’t want to renew. Then they purchased it outright and told me to sit on the sidelines,” Smith recalled. “But it was in the contract that if they didn’t make a movie within ten years, then the rights reverted back to me. So I had to wait. It was such an unpleasant experience, I decided I didn’t want to sell it again. But word got out and I started getting calls from streaming services and Netflix was the best match. That’s how it happened.”
Motion picture and television rights are esoteric legal devices that often give studios and networks the “option” to turn a story into a film or series within a given span of time. They come with lots of conditions and fine print typically serving those purchasing them, but occasionally those selling them. It’s a way to buy time, but also ensure projects don’t stay idle indefinitely.
“BONE was really an early mashup, before that term existed, of comedy and swords and sorcery. It was Bugs Bunny meets Lord of the Rings. I think it’s got to be the comedy and the combination of characters that made it popular,” Smith said, speculating on the mystery behind the series’ somewhat unexpected success, even internationally. “BONE is published all over the world. It’s still weird to pick up one of my stories and see the characters speaking French. If I knew the secret, I’d do it again.”
A decade ago, Netflix was mostly dropping DVDs in the mail and was producing zero original content. A year later marked the premiere of AMC’s The Walking Dead, a television adaptation that was so dicey at the time, they only gave the first season six episodes. Now Netflix accounts for more than half of all internet traffic in the U.S. on Sunday night, and The Walking Dead draws more viewers than all Sunday NFL games combined.
“The real problem we had with Warner Brothers was making a 1,500-page book into an hour and a half movie. It couldn’t be done, so it didn’t get done,” he said. “But a streaming animated show was perfect; it’s just like the comic book. It’s serialized and can progress chapter by chapter. It was the right time, and the right company.”
Netflix isn’t the only streaming service clamouring for content, and it’s easy to forget House of Cards, their first original series, only premiered in 2013. With Amazon Prime and Hulu well-established, and Disney and Apple both investing heavily in production for their own freshly-minted subscription services, Smith again seemed to capture the right moment to reach the right audience, all while maintaining the artistic integrity of BONE.
“We’re still looking for showrunners. If everything goes well, we’re hoping to have shows in the fall of 2022. I’ll be a creator on the show and an executive producer, but it’s really just one more project,” Smith noted. “I still want to draw comics. I don’t need to be out there the whole time. Once the show is up and running, I can work here.”
As if BONE alone weren’t a sufficient source of inspiration for veteran and aspiring comic artists, Smith is also a founder and the artistic director of Cartoon Crossroads Columbus (CXC), an annual, and increasingly international, celebration of the city’s commitment to illustrated storytellers across every genre and format. But even before CXC, Columbus was arguably already a comic town. From esteemed exhibitions at the Columbus Museum of Art and the Wexner Center to nationally renowned institutions like the Billy Ireland Cartoon Library & Museum and Thurber House, our city has always recognized comics as art worth appreciating as much as any medium of creative expression.
“The idea behind CXC was that it would be more like a European show and not be all in one room at a convention center or hotel. It would be at different venues throughout the city. But it would also be a show that was more collegial, that would nurture comic creators and encourage connections,” he explained. “When I grew up here, there were neighborhoods in Columbus where you wouldn’t go at night. Now we’re a chef-driven town with galleries everywhere. We’re a cultural crossroads. It’s why we wanted to have events all over town, to showcase the city. And it’s working. People will go to an exhibit at the Columbus Museum of Art, then go to an event at OSU and stop in the Short North along the way, grab a bite to eat and talk about comics.”
Even as he prepares for the production of BONE the streaming series and the sixth year of CXC, Smith sees the similarities in both projects and the role he plays—getting the right balance of characters working toward the same goal and creating a story that compels audiences to return. “You have to start each with a recap, so everyone knows the story so far. Tell your new episode, then end it with a cliffhanger,” Smith explained. “That’s the secret to any serial, whether it’s a comic, a television show, or a convention. You have to give people a reason to come back for more.”
To learn more about BONE and Smith’s other work, visit boneville.com b
