Category: Celebrity (page 2 of 4)

January 1, 2020

Boneville and Beyond

Originally published in the January 2020 issue of (614) Magazine

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

December 15, 2019

Ena’s Enviable Anniversary

Originally published in the Winter 2019 issue of Stock & Barrel

No one really opens a restaurant expecting to become a neighborhood landmark. But the right restaurant, one that brings people together and bridges the generational divide that dooms too many family businesses, are exceedingly rare.

Vinell “Ena” Hayles didn’t even set out to open a restaurant. But her Sunday suppers became such a local legend, the suggestion she should share her recipes and expertise with her Linden neighbors eventually became inevitable.

Born in Jamaica, Hayles opened her venerated eatery in December of 1999, a milestone enviable in a city that sees plenty of restaurants fade away as initial intrigue evaporates and diners drift elsewhere. Though her stretch of Cleveland Avenue had no shortage of shuttered storefronts, Hayles didn’t anticipate becoming an anchor in a neighborhood hungry for one.
“My house was already a restaurant. Everyone knew dinner time was 5 o’clock, and my kids had to be home for family dinner. So they brought their friends,” Hayles recalled. “They all knew they had to behave and show respect. Those are still the rules in my restaurant.”

In her flour-covered apron and signature fedora, Hayles doesn’t look the part of a matriarch. But as soon as she walks into the kitchen, everyone still kind of stands at attention, even her husband Lloyd. Her commanding presence alone all but demands it, despite her diminutive stature. Aside from the obvious commercial amenities, it’s not really that different from the home kitchen where the idea started two decades ago.

“I knew people wanted real Jamaican cuisine. If you come to my house, you’ll get ackee and saltfish for breakfast. Dinner will be curry goat and oxtail, maybe a little jerk chicken. So that was our main focus,” Hayles explained. “Lamb and the curry goat are the most popular. People order our oxtail and taste the difference because we use real honey, real garlic, real hot pepper, and real thyme in our seasoning.”

A variety of fish are also among the more original offerings with perch, red snapper, whiting, and tilapia all served with traditional rich brown stew or vinegary escoveitch—or as a sandwich, if you’d prefer. Comfort food sides from rice and beans to collard greens highlight flavors from the Caribbean to the Carolinas.

Authentic and uncompromising, the menu is actually deeper than it appears, with well-executed standards and less likely Sunday brunch specials that reflect the diverse neighborhood dynamic. Chicken and shrimp gumbo, crawfish and crab gravy and biscuits, and tiger shrimp and smoked Gouda grits blend Hayles’ own upbringing with the low country favorites of the Deep South and the African origins of her fellow immigrant community. Catering was an early extension of the business, with take-out tickets already rivaling dine-in guests. She also serves more cornbread on the average day than some restaurants serve customers.

“People used to ask if we were open on Sunday, and I’d say no. But my son Marlon said, ‘Well, you take Sunday off and I’ll do it.’ I’m not in the kitchen at all,” she chuckled. “I’ll come from church and pick up dinner, but Sunday is his day and his menu. It was his idea, but he still had to go through me. I had to taste everything first before we started Sunday brunch.”

It’s nearly impossible to achieve made-from-scratch results in even the most well-appointed restaurant kitchen. The missing ingredient is always time. That’s why you’ll find Ena’s preparing for lunch as early as 4AM during the week, and starting to prep for Sunday on Saturday night before returning nearly as early the following morning.

“My circle of influence is my circle of friends who are Caribbean, African, and Creole. The brunch menu reflects all of that. On Sundays, my whole family works in the kitchen: my kids, my sister, my nieces and nephews,” explained Marlon Hayles. “There’s a connection to the food and the culture, they’re proud in a way that only comes from having your name in the game. I don’t look at this as work. I’m just making dinner with my family.”

Marlon is one of five children who have all put in time at the restaurant over the years, and still do, between academic and occupational pursuits elsewhere. Evenings and weekends bring everyone together in the kitchen just like any family, except their kitchen is the restaurant.

“We keep getting asked to open another Ena’s, but how can you recreate something like this and have the same consistency and quality? That’s where the food trucks came from,” he explained. “We were trying to figure out the best way to get out there without losing that sense of ourselves. We have one here and one in Cincinnati. It’s still family and was easier than opening up another brick and mortar. Everyone can still get their Ena’s fix.”

Every restaurant has its secrets, and fortunately for the future, Ena’s are safe. Recipes still mostly made with a lifetime of experience and a dash of intuition were diligently written down, an heirloom more families should pursue lest their own legacy of recipes becomes lost forever. And fortunately for all of us, Hayles has no plans to retire any time soon. She now sees the same neighborhood kids who used to tag along for Sunday dinner fully grown, stopping by to share memories and recipes with kids of their own. But Ena is still no nonsense, and isn’t going anywhere.

“It’s just like it was at my house back then. If you don’t behave, you have to leave,” she laughed. “The neighborhood has changed, but everyone still knows us here. They respect what we do. This is where I started, and this is where we want to stay.” ▩

Ena’s Caribbean Kitchen is at 2444 Cleveland Avenue. Visit them online at enascaribbeankitchen.com

October 15, 2019

A Candidate’s Dining Guide to Columbus

Originally published in the October 2019 issue of (614) Magazine

Columbus is used to letting folks know what we think, particularly when it comes to what we eat. Increasingly rare are restaurants that don’t first test new recipes and menus here before rolling them out across the country.

Our enviable intersection of demographics and popular culture take on additional significance every four years when the race for the White House heats up and inevitably stops in Central Ohio. Our state remains a reliable political bellwether of who is most likely to become the next president, or stay so. No republican has ever won without Ohio, starting with Abraham Lincoln. And we’ve only been wrong once since before WWII, picking Nixon over Kennedy. (No one’s perfect.)

But the race arrived a little earlier this time, with a dozen entourages and enumerable news crews all angling for a breakout moment. The Democratic Party Primary Debate in Westerville at Otterbein University wasn’t scheduled there because they have a big auditorium and ample parking. Every campaign knows Ohio doesn’t just predict the next president. It sometimes decides it.

So it would be a shame for all of these candidates and a growing gaggle of political pundits to come all this way and miss out on a great meal with the everyday denizens who are in all likelihood going to determine the direction of the country for the next four years.

Here’s a short list of suggestions for presidential hopefuls who might like to grab a memorable bite, shake some hands, sincerely listen, and maybe even seal the deal.

Tommy’s Diner | 914 W Broad Street

This Westside, working-class breakfast and lunch counter has no shortage of options or opinions. Elected officials are as easy to find here as fried eggs. Even the New York Times sent a reporter in camp out in a booth all day in 2016 to take the temperature of voter frustration from across the political spectrum. If you want to impress the regulars, order the Big Breakfast—over-easy, pick your pig, and ask for a waffle instead of hotcakes or French Toast. Cut back on the extra carbs by sharing your home fries with your handler.

Ray Ray’s Hot Pit | 2619 N High Street

Nationally known and proudly homegrown, this smoldering standard in the Old North neighborhood attracts even the academics with its gritty authenticity. There are few metaphors for democracy more fitting than standing in line talking politics at a food truck waiting for smoked meat off the bone or on a bun. Can’t decide? Try everything with a Meatsweats box of brisket, pulled pork, jerk chicken, dry rubbed ribs, and a hot link. Wash it all down with a cold Cheerwine. It might score you some poll points in the Carolinas.

Dulce Vida Ice Cream Factory | 2400 Home Acre Drive

Legit Mexican frozen confections have been a hit with more than local Latinos since their second location opened in Westerville. It’s a gathering place for families with origins around the globe drawn together by something sweet, a language everyone speaks with ease. Don’t be the candidate who orders plain old chocolate for fear of offending some key constituency. Go bold with Blackberry and Cheese or Goat Milk Caramel. And if it’s been a trying day on the campaign trail, add a scoop of Almond Tequila. We won’t judge

Momo Ghar | 1265 Morse Road

The original hotspot for Himalayan home cooking, nothing quite beats the seasonal chill like a big bowl of delicate dumplings, secretly served at your local international grocery. The Northeast side of the city’s growing immigrant community spans several continents, with recent arrivals from Asia, Africa, and the Middle East joining generations who preceded them. Petite pockets of chicken and pork are outstanding, swimming in a small sea of spicy sauce. But vegetable dumplings and gluten-free lentil cakes could inspire some crossover appeal

Stauf’s Coffee Roasters | 1334 Neil Avenue

Anchored in Grandview for 30 years, Stauf’s latest location in a recently renovated church just south of Ohio State’s campus is both a departure for the brand and a reminder of why they’ve stayed ahead of the corporate coffee curve. Millennials could be the largest voting bloc in 2020, so their support is essential and concerns impossible to ignore. Don’t risk a social media fiasco by botching the order of a convoluted caffeinated concoction. No need to be a hero here. Just get a large regular in a mug—black. Done.

The third Democratic Party Primary Debate, hosted by CNN and the New York Times, will air live at 8PM from Otterbein University in Westerville, Ohio

May 1, 2019

Coastal Comfort Food

Originally published in the May 2019 issue of (614) Magazine

If not for the rhythmic roar of an occasional COTA bus breaking like waves against the shore, you might just mistake the sounds of the Short North for a Southern California boardwalk. But if the seaside inspired shutters and coastal decor of its most recent restaurant don’t suspend your disbelief, the menu and milieu surely will.

Cameron Mitchell’s newest venture, Del Mar SoCal Kitchen, is the casual counterpoint to Ocean Prime (or what we locals know better as the original Ocean Club). Though the dinner-only destination is more than a “finer diner,” with an emphasis on intimacy, dominated by two-tops complemented with low-lit alcoves for more amorous couples and conversations.

The weekend before any restaurant launch is often a soft open, the culinary equivalent of a dress rehearsal for a forgiving audience. But unlike the average opening night, this evening was actually a tale of two Camerons. To my left was the insatiable restaurateur introducing a table of friends to his latest collection of curated cuisine, and at my own table, the irrepressible Cameron Fontana and his wife Katie. Familiar faces for sure, but we were otherwise strangers who just happened to be seated together.

Columbus is just big enough for folks to share the same orbit without ever intersecting. Though they didn’t know it at the time, my wife and I also happened to be house shopping a couple of years back, even looking at some of the same homes, including one featured on their appearance on HGTV’s House Hunters. Fontana also fell short of finishing a comically proportioned local pizza challenge, as well as having been born in Osaka the same year I’d spent a summer in Japan as an exchange student.

Cameron moved to California as a kid, decades before television became his calling and Columbus his adopted hometown. Meanwhile, Katie hails from Pickerington, yet her influence as a fitness and dance instructor reaches well beyond Central Ohio. The unanticipated rapport made them the perfect two-person test market for that other Cameron’s Midwest twist on coastal comfort food.

Never mind the awkwardness of new acquaintances. Exploring the menu immediately became a group effort, with each course pushing geographic and culinary boundaries. Though billed as a “SoCal” establishment, opening options like the curry clams, with heirloom tomato and Thai coconut, to the chilled octopus, served on ice with pickled cucumber, tobiko roe, and a citrus vinaigrette, cast a wider net with Pacific Rim credibility.

Cameron was cool with shells, scales, even suction cups. But Katie confessed she isn’t always so keen on seafood. It’s a common conundrum among couples when one comes from the coast and the other is a little more local, another coincidence my wife and I share with the Fontanas. It’s not that seafood is inherently more sophisticated, just more scarce. The farther you grow up from saltwater, the more likely you are to eat off the hoof than off the hook.

Accordingly, Katie ordered the more reliable angus ribeye, flanked by a spinach salad of smoked bacon, pickled turnips, and ricotta salata, while Cameron was tempted by the almost obligatory fish tacos, breaded in a Baja style Tecate beer batter with bright pico de gallo and a sweet potato chimichurri. The halibut had my name on it, with Marona almonds and golden raisins atop a citrus chili relish. But everyone was also eyeing the swordfish, which we agreed to split—along with everything else.

And this is where Del Mar really raises the bar, offering equally enviable alternatives to their signature fare. At most seafood restaurants, if it doesn’t have fins, it probably plays second fiddle. The ribeye was seasoned and seared to steakhouse standards. The tacos were on target with a tempura texture offering yet another nod to California’s Asian influences. The halibut was delicate and decadent, and exactly what you’d expect from a plate I later learned every chef has to personally approve before it leaves the kitchen.

But the swordfish was sumptuous and as satisfying as any cut of steak, balanced with a refreshing Brussels sprout and sliced apple slaw with orange-mustard vinaigrette and a creamy sweet potato puree waiting to be discovered on the bottom of every bite. If there’s a single entree that epitomizes Del Mar’s earnest appeal to Midwestern palates, this may be it—and Katie is among its early converts.

Del Mar’s desserts are deceptively understated. Easily overlooked are the coconut sorbet served on the half shell and the Hawaiian shaved ice with the punch of pineapple. Order both and share for an experience akin to a deconstructed piña colada. For something more citrusy and unexpected, the olive oil cake is like eating an orange creamsicle with a fork, and so moist it cuts without leaving a crumb.

Dinner could end right there or extend upstairs to Lincoln Social Rooftop, an equally intimate perch accessible only by private elevator. Despite the polished appointments and urban overlook that stretches from downtown to the University District, the low seating around a cozy campfire still carries a little of the beach vibe into the exclusive cocktail lounge.

Despite its shine, California cuisine often gets as much shade, with petite and pretentious presentation rubbing the working class the wrong way. Steve Martin’s sardonic Shakespearean satire L.A. Story summed it up succinctly with one silly line — “Gee, I’m done already and I don’t remember eating.”

Not so with Del Mar SoCal Kitchen. Each plate is portioned with purpose—generous, but never garish—featuring flavors that reveal a refined appreciation for beloved regional ingredients. Those Brussels sprouts and sweet potato headline a recurring cast of Midwest favorites rarely found in deep-sea delicacies. The recipes are ocean-inspired, but undeniably Ohio in origin. If Alice Waters were to suddenly set up shop in the Short North, her execution would likely look shockingly similar.

Columbus is still a meat and potatoes town better known for beer and beards than seafood for certain. But the thoughtful and affordable opulence of Del Mar SoCal Kitchen proves we’re more than just another inland culinary imitator. We’re not simply an emerging market. We’re evolving into a city that defines its own identity—sure to acknowledge influences, but unapologetic as innovators deserving our own overdue moment in the sun. ▩

For reservations and details on Cameron Mitchell’s latest endeavor, visit delmarcolumbus.com

April 1, 2019

Cutting Edge

Originally published in the April 2019 issue of (614) Magazine

Julia Richey has a persuasive presence, even without a sword.

Since immigrating to the U.S. two decades ago, she’s managed to parlay her passion for fencing into an ever-widening community of athletes and enthusiasts well beyond Central Ohio. A member of the Russian National Team since her teens, Richey’s credibility may only be matched by her charm. Point of fact, her continued requests for more stage time at the Arnold Fitness Expo ultimately led to the construction of her own stage. (It probably didn’t hurt that Schwarzenegger himself is a huge fan of both fencing and its unapologetic ambassador.)

“My goal is to make fencing more popular in Columbus than football,” she quipped.

Then again, maybe she wasn’t kidding. Despite the long odds of success for anyone starting a small business from scratch, Royal Arts Fencing Academy has adapted and expanded to encompass a rich range of edged weapons and combat styles — most notably HEMA, the less cumbersome acronym for Historical European Martial Arts.

“The HEMA groups are like we were 20 years ago, practicing in yoga rooms and parks. Fencing clubs are a natural fit because we have our own space,” revealed Tim Mills, fencing coach and Richey’s business and creative counterpart.

From Lord of the Rings to Game of Thrones, medieval fantasy meets real metal with HEMA. Despite the persistent stigma of ‘nerds with swords’, the mix of fight choreography and full-contact combat surely burns more calories than another boring trip to the gym.

“Someone who starts here with a longsword may also decide to pick up a rapier. There’s a lot of crossover and common skills — distance, timing, angle, and leverage,” explained Frank Zamary, head HEMA instructor. “If you have those basic components, you can fight with any sword.”

Not that there’s a shortage of “nerdoms”, Zamary coyly confessed. And Mills was quick to note the social overlap between evenings spent playing Dungeons & Dragons and wielding actual weapons was quite high at Royal Arts.

“It’s a very nerdy place,” Richey confirmed. “This is the only time you’ll hear parents tell their kids to put down that book and go workout.”

Competitive and recreational fencing haven’t been immune to the increasing fears of parents when it comes to sports, as seen by dramatic declines in youth football in particular. Add to that the common perception of swordplay, and you’d think fencing would be an even tougher sell.

Fortunately, Richey and Mills are adept at emphasizing the unique benefits of fencing while allaying such concerns. Much like other martial arts, the precision and discipline required often help students find the focus and attention to detail necessary for academic success as well.

“That’s the hardest part, overcoming the idea that fencing is more dangerous than other sports when it’s actually safer than most,” Mills noted. “We do a lot of public exhibitions, for parents as much as the kids. If I can put a sword in your hand, you’ll get hooked.”

But summer camps and workshops aren’t just for kids. The schedule offers adult classes ranging from lightsabers to bartitsu — a combination of kickboxing, cane fighting, and improvised combat popularized by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that’s seen a recent revival. Last June, Benedict Cumberbatch famously fought off four muggers single-handedly with skills he acquired during his stint as the BBC’s Sherlock Holmes.

“Someone gave me a Groupon as a gift for the lightsaber class, and I just kept coming,” admitted Shaun Reed, who now teaches the class. “Tim asked me to help work on choreography for the Arnold a few years ago. I’ve been here ever since.”

There is definitely an action hero allure all around, and the Arnold Fitness Expo is inextricably at the center. Folks around Royal Arts actually measure their tenure by “how many Arnolds” they’ve done, going so far as declaring “Arnold Eve” and “Arnold New Year” unofficial holidays marking the culmination of one event and immediately planning for the next.

“Last year we did rapier. We’ve done lightsaber and longsword; we used to just do sport fencing. This year, we’re doing shashka for the first time,” Mills explained. “There’s no guard, so it’s a lot like a lightsaber in the way that it moves.”

Even for those unfamiliar with the proper name of the Russian military saber, the fluid fighting style is surprisingly reminiscent of a galaxy far, far away. The lack of a guard, the typical separation between the blade and the handle, allows the saber to be spun with astounding speed.

“Shashka has been a traditional saber since the Czars. Cossacks used it as their primary weapon,” explained Richey. Both she and Mills will demonstrate the saber’s signature “flankirovka”, or spinning blades, in full Cossack attire. Workshops are forthcoming. “It’s a complete upper body workout, especially the arms and shoulders.”

The wider array of options at Royal Arts doesn’t diminish fencing as its most popular offering. Much like the Arnold Sports Festival, it’s a recognition of the cultural shift away from simply training for athletes to activities to improve fitness and focus for anyone.

“Olympic fencing has more personality than people think. You can’t be too aggressive or too shy,” Richey revealed. “Fencing is a sport that combines the mind and body. It teaches you not to think too far ahead and to recover quickly. It’s all about finding balance.” ▩

For more details on upcoming classes and workshops, visit royalarts.org

February 4, 2019

Willing to Say Anything

Originally published in the February 2019 issue of (614) Magazine

If actors are fortunate, they’re remembered for one film that epitomizes the angst, anxiety, and aspirations of a generation. John Cusack has a career full of them. From cult to iconic, acclaimed to obscure, it’s perhaps impossible to overstate his influence or put him in a box.

Indelible ensemble performances in Sixteen Candles and Stand by Me, along with leading roles in The Sure Thing and Better Off Dead, earned Cusack an early reputation as a relatable and reliable talent just as the prospects for many of his teen comedy contemporaries were flaming out after puberty.

Then came Say Anything, which remains the anthem for every misfit who’s punched above his weight, and every girl who’s fallen for the one guy her friends and parents dismissed.

Cusack could have quit at the end of the credits and we’d still be talking about Lloyd Dobler and his boombox 30 years later. But instead of subpar sequels, he offered a second act we rarely see — one built on personal passion, purposeful projects, and the crisis of conscience that closely parallels the teen rite of passage.

“I had the luxury to work in film when it was a little less corporate. People who ran the studios were individuals. They would have a portfolio they’d take to shareholders and say, ‘Here are our tent-pole films’,” Cusack explained. “But they had six or seven movies a year they would give to artists they liked. I got to make Grosse Pointe Blank and High Fidelity, Spike Lee got to make Summer of Sam, and Wes Anderson got to make Rushmore. It was because of the tastes of a guy named Joe Roth who ran Fox, and ran Disney. We never had to beg for money, and we never had to protect the cuts.”

Even if not for Roth’s old school style and reluctance to treat test market screenings as more than just another metric, Cusack also wrote and coproduced Grosse Pointe Blank and High Fidelity. Wearing multiple hats in Hollywood doesn’t always mean you get your way. But at the time, Cusack’s artistic vision and authority on both films were nearly absolute.

“I sort of bridged the gap between the 60s and 70s filmmaking culture and from about 2000 on when the film companies became a very, very, small fraction of these multinational corporations,” he recalled. “All I had to do for those movies was tell Joe, ‘We’re going to shoot this in 48 days.’ I wasn’t going to go a day over schedule or waste any of his money. We didn’t have to deal with financiers or studio interference. I never felt like any film I made with Joe was compromised artistically. It was a different era.”

Cusack has an impressive history of prophetic films that seemed to predict everything from the rise of mixed martial arts to the renaissance of vinyl records. And even though politics can be polarizing, his films never shy away from them.

The vilification of the gun lobby in Runaway Jury and his clever critique of military contracting in War, Inc. were both well ahead of the curve. Even Cusack’s cameos and contributing roles are often scene stealing, and frequent collaborations with friend and colleague Tim Robbins tend to be among the most subtle and subversive. With each passing day, Bob Roberts seems less like a satire and more like a documentary from the future.

Have his outspoken opinions closed some doors, or opened others? If so, he hasn’t noticed, and doubts any such differences or decisions run that deep. Much like his earlier characters, Cusack still isn’t worried about winning a high school popularity contest or becoming prom king.

“Hollywood financiers have become far more shallow and the ethics are so transactional, I don’t think people pay attention long enough to consider politics as much as what’s hot right now,” he opined. “But I’ve always been pretty consistent about needing to say what you feel and the need to put provocative stuff, dangerous stuff into art.”

Cusack’s characters are often an everyman at odds with the status quo, though he can still pull off the affable anti-hero — as a serial grifter, a contract killer, and a political assassin. But Cusack is also an underrated chameleon, having transformed into a surprising range of real-life characters, from Nelson Rockefeller in Cradle Will Rock and Edgar Allen Poe in The Raven to Richard Nixon in Lee Daniels’ The Butler and Brian Wilson in Love & Mercy. Inhabiting someone else’s skin is a challenge and responsibility he doesn’t take lightly.

“If a person is alive like Brian, I just hung out with him and his wife as much as I could. That part of his life wasn’t as public as the first part of the life. He was basically a Beatle. He was on tour, they were making videos, he was recording nonstop, and then he went into the abyss for a while. People didn’t know him when he came out of it in his 40s, or that part of his life,” Cusack revealed. “You immerse yourself in a character. Obviously Edgar Allen Poe and Richard Nixon aren’t going to give you any notes. But I hope the real-life characters I’ve played represent the essence of them, the spirit of them. You don’t want to do a literal imitation, but you hope you capture some part of them that’s eternal.”

With the advent of streaming services and digital downloads, Cusack’s earlier work is connecting with new fans, often the children of those who came of age in the 80s and 90s. And though some actors may cringe at the prospect of their earlier endeavors becoming easier to find and effectively lasting forever, the timelessness of Cusack’s films, old and new, still rings true.

“There’s a great story about one of my favorite films, Sweet Smell of Success. It came out and got savage reviews. People can’t see new art when it comes out. So it sat on a shelf until someone at WGN said, ‘We have this Burt Lancaster/Tony Curtis movie. Why don’t we start playing it?” It got a cult following being screened at 10 o’clock or midnight on,” Cusack explained. “Then Barry Levinson had one of the characters in Diner quoting from the movie all the time. It finally started to get looked at again, and it’s a classic. It’s easily considered Lancaster and Curtis’ best work, but it was gone for 30 years. Now, you can’t kill a film. No matter what you do to a film, it’s going to find its audience sooner or later.” ▩

CAPA will be presenting a live Q&A with John Cusack following a screening of High Fidelity at the Palace Theatre on February 15.

Visit www.capa.com for details and ticket information.

December 13, 2018

Barbershop Quintet

Originally published in the December 2018 issue of (614) Magazine

The foremost fear of many musicians is failing to fill a room, and rightly so. The club circuit is cutthroat, and light ticket sales and lackluster turnout can easily kill a band’s future before it even begins.

Empty seats are hardly a concern at the most exclusive live music venue in Columbus, where the audiences rarely outnumber the performers and it’s typically standing room only.

That’s because it’s not a basement bar or small stage. It’s a barbershop.

Jim Morris might surprise you as the proprietor of a place called The Mug & Brush. With his wavy white mane and robust beard, he looks like someone who hasn’t seen the inside of a barbershop in a while, not the owner of one. (Two in fact, between the original in the Old North neighborhood between campus and Clintonville, and now an equally quaint second location in Gahanna.)

But as the creator of an indie music series shot on a shoestring that has acts lining up to get in, his relaxed locks and attitude are entirely on brand.

“We started with a couple of prototype sessions with The Floorwalkers and Nick D’ and the Believers. Even before that, I’d asked just about every video and sound guy who came through the shop about the project,” Morris recalled. “I’d cut Keith’s hair for about ten years, but hadn’t seen him recently because he was growing his hair long. He stopped by and I told him about the idea. That’s how I finally hooked up with the crew.”

Keith Hanlon is exactly what you’d expect from a seasoned sound guy. As a producer and audio engineer, he’s as adept at booking the bands as he is running the board in a recording studio that’s far more complex than just a warm old room with high ceilings. Hanlon is affable and technical, intent on isolating each performer’s voice and instrument with assuring precision, despite the odd mix of textures and street traffic.

“The biggest issue I have is bleed onto the vocal mics. It depends on how loud the drummer is,” Hanlon quipped, himself a drummer. “As we’ve progressed, we’ve gone from a pieced together PA system for monitors to a decent USB mixer and enough equipment accumulated along the way to create a studio feel that still sounds live.”

“It began with a few friends and bands we knew, like Birdshack and Righteous Buck. They agreed sight unseen, it was a leap of faith,” Morris revealed. “They didn’t know the crew or exactly what it was all about, but they said, “We’re in,” anyway. Within six months, bands were calling us.”

Though The Mug & Brush Sessions is a music series, don’t mistake it for a podcast. It’s decidedly cinematic, with multiple cameras and a balance of shots that never looks or sounds sanitized or slick. With angles and close ups as high and tight as a haircut, it’s raw and refined at the same time.

“We do several takes, but we don’t intercut. Sometimes you’ll pick up something only one person will notice,” Hanlon explained. “You may see it on the performers face, but we’ll just let it go and use another shot. I’d rather have an imperfect performance than lose the magic.”

Getting a big sound out of a small space isn’t easy on either side of board. Bands used to playing for hundreds, perhaps thousands also have to scale down their performance to the intimate surroundings. Engineering can also prove imperfect, amplified by the occasional OS update with unintended consequences.

“Things break down, and an update can render a piece of equipment useless. Doc Robinson had eight performers, the most we’ve ever had in the room. I could still use the mixer, I just couldn’t record from it,” Hanlon explained. He ended up cobbling a couple of pieces of equipment together to manage the monitors and capture the recording, syncing the 10-channel session afterward. “It was the only way we could do it. Sometimes, you just have to make it work.”

Though there is a bent toward indie rock and Americana, there are definitely no limits on genre. From local folks who have earned audiences beyond Columbus, like Lydia Loveless and Josh Krajcik, to the EDM of Damn the Witch Siren and spunk rock darlings Cherry Chrome.

“I’d like to see more of the less frequent genres we’ve had, like Blueprint and Dominique Larue,” Morris recalled. “We also had a chamber music string quartet once, Carpe Diem.”

“We try to book acts with musical diversity and diversity in general. I’d love to have a Somali or Latino group, something you won’t find outside those communities,” Hanlon followed.

As a Midwest crossroads, their relationship with Natalie’s, proximity to the Newport, and pipeline from Nashville has also yielded some unexpected acts for The Mug & Brush Sessions.

“We’ve had Peter Case, and Califone, and Greg Trooper, though there are so many local acts, we really don’t have to look outside Columbus,” noted Hanlon. “I’d love to get Michael Hurley. He’s always playing at Nelsonville Music Festival and up at Natalie’s.”

Beyond the bands, the real genius of the show is how scalable and shareable it is. Shot on the same DSLR platform favored by independent filmmakers, it feels authentic without being claustrophobic. Hosted on YouTube instead of some hyper-restrictive or homespun solution, it’s easy to send to a friend with a click. For many bands, it’s become a measure of credibility or a professional milestone, like the local equivalent of an appearance on Austin City Limits or MTV Unplugged.

It’s also just as easy to watch it on a television screen as a smartphone or computer. Performances also hold up on even bigger screens, occasionally featured at Mojoflo’s Music Video Mondays at the Gateway Film Center. The stripped down style of the sessions actually succeeds where most music videos fail, transporting the audience to a live performance, as though they’re sitting right there in a barber chair between Jim and Keith, taking it all in.

“We’re creating an archive of the Columbus music scene we hope will still be relevant decades from now. But that wasn’t exactly our original intent. We just wanted to feature local musicians in a new way,” Morris noted. “When we started, I hoped we might make it to 100 episodes. But now that we’re five years in, who knows. Maybe we can make it to ten?” ▩

For a complete archive of The Mug & Brush Sessions, visit themugandbrushsessions.com

December 13, 2018

Second Story

Originally published in the December 2018 issue of (614) Magazine

There’s no perfect formula for connecting artists and audiences, much to the dismay of musicians, promoters, and the fans they fail to rope into their orbit. But if there were one, the secret ingredient that distinguishes nuisance from noise would probably be the venue itself.

Maybe that’s why mindful musicians and their faithful followers are driving in droves to a former furniture store out in Newark for craft beer and cocktails before settling in for shows that defy expectations at any decibel.

Unlike an aging arena or basement bar, Thirty One West was built for music, back in the days when Newark was known as “Little Chicago” for its robust theater scene. But after decades of decline, like most medium-sized Midwest towns, the satellite city has been torn between playing second fiddle to a tempting metropolis just over the horizon or forging its own destination identity. The dance hall days are over. Fire claimed some, neglect got the rest — all but this one that happened to find a second life as a low-frills furniture store waiting to be rediscovered.

“During construction, we did a series called the Ballroom Revival Sessions. We wanted to share with folks where we were in the process and were eager to have music in the space and hear how it sounded,” explained Tom Atha, champion of Newark’s own larger revival and a familiar face for anyone who’s ever been to Thirty One West.

The Church Street “project” as it became locally known includes a barbecue joint, a yoga studio, a play café, and an art space featuring Atha’s alma mater Denison University. But the second story live concert venue and street level bar are the jewels in this downtown crown of urban renewal. Atha also operates Earthwork Recording Studio down the block, so creating a small space feel despite the enormity of the undertaking was always a priority.

“We started inviting friends in to perform, but also offer an update on construction. It allowed us to do some interviews and gather insights from artists on what they look for in a venue,” he recalled. “With someone like Sean Rowe, we were really curious about his interest in house shows, and how could a larger venue still capture the intimacy of a house show. It helped us share what we were doing and get some music out there before we even had the doors open.”

It didn’t take long for word to get out that there was something special about the acoustical street cred of their quirky old ballroom with a bar in both the basement and the balcony. That’s why acts that could play anywhere are reconnecting with their roots at a venue that brings artists and audiences together. From the growling blues of Taj Mahal to the jazz-funk fusion of Spyro Gyra, performers seeking something kindred in a place that is both old and new have taken notice.

“For me, the biggest part of choosing a venue is whether the audience can hear the show as we intend it. You don’t want it loud, and reverberant, and noisy. I really prefer to have a listening environment,” revealed Steven Page, who played his first gig at Thirty One West in October. The former front man for Barenaked Ladies knows what makes a room and an audience both hum. “I’m pretty aware of the fact that my audience isn’t 22 anymore. They’re not going to want to come see me and stand on a concrete floor for five hours.”

Many musicians often have only rudimentary information about a venue before playing there for the first time — city, capacity, and little else. Bookers and promoters schedule the shows. One delivers the talent, the other the audience. But when artists are impressed by the right place, or turned off, everyone tends to hear about it.

“Lots of artists compare notes, especially the horror stories. You’ll always remember the really terrible ones. But if there’s a new venue opening up in town, or one that’s developing a new reputation, you automatically share those experiences with other musicians,” Page noted. “I’ll go to my agent and say I really want to play there again. And that helps get more acts booked there as well.”

Every venue has a different vibe, and Thirty One West seems to occupy the fabled Goldilocks zone right in the middle, large enough to achieve critical mass, yet small enough for the shared experience not to get lost.

“If a room is acoustically dead, some songs won’t have the same kind of expansive feeling they would in a more lively room. And if a venue is really noisy, it’s harder for us to hear ourselves onstage. If notes go out and wash around the room, we may have to choose songs that require less precision. The strokes are broader,” Page explained. “There’s a song that we do some nights, an old Barenaked Ladies song called Break Your Heart. If the room feels right and sounds right, and the audience is engaged, it becomes this perfect storm. I’ll do it incredibly intimately, if I feel like my voice is going to carry in that room. I’d like to do it every night, but I’d blow my voice out. So it’s the kind of performance you only get if the room can support it.”

The ballroom doesn’t necessarily look like what you might expect from that moniker. There aren’t velvet curtains or a punch bowl at the end of the room for thirsty wallflowers. Instead, there’s an expansive wooden dance floor that resonates with each note with a mix of modest tables and chairs. Yet the room is so tuned in, there’s actually a sign in balcony warning patrons to mind their voices, as the acoustics carry conversations all the way down to the stage.

“Sometimes we’ll play in a place that’s really ornate, like an old church, or a venue that seems really dressy, and you can tell an audience is intimidated by that. They aren’t as expressive right off the bat, so you have to work a little harder for them to feel less self-conscious, let go, and enjoy the show. I like those challenges. Honestly, I like having to work for every bit of applause. It’s easy to take it for granted,” explained Page. “If the room is right, the audience is at ease. That’s when unpredictable things happen. We have the freedom to mix up of the set list, or an encore. Someone may shout out a request we haven’t prepared or played as a trio, and we’ll try it out anyway.”

This is where Thirty One West really ups the ante on venues, and is a credible threat for the predictable digs folks are used to in Columbus. They know the room so artists are also at ease, tuning their tech like the whole building was one giant instrument instead of turning everything up to 11 and hoping for the best.

“The folks at Thirty One West told us it was the first time for a lot of people there at the show, so hopefully connecting with a new clientele will help build that core audience. For us, the staff and crew were great, easy to work with from the monitors to the PAs. They were helpful and hands on and really knew how to work their equipment,” Page revealed. “That’s a big difference. Sometimes you go into a place and that’s not the case. But when you work with people who know the room, it makes our job so much easier, knowing we can go on stage relaxed and that the audience will hear the show as it should be.”

Even so, old habits are tough to break with some tours that tend to look past smaller shows or locales, despite the increased attention from performers and their patrons.

“It could be daunting initially to attract acts that are used to playing right in Columbus. We thought it was a really beautiful building, aesthetically and acoustically. That’s what’s going to win them over. It’s such a great listening room — without being precious about it,” Page opined. “I remember playing a couple of gigs over the years, places where they actually shush people if they talk. I feel I have to earn people’s quiet. But if it’s a talky room, maybe it’s because audiences can’t hear us as well. Everyone here was relaxed, enthusiastic, and into the show. That’s what the right venue can do. It’s not just the building, it’s the audience it attracts.”

However, the ballroom is only part of what distinguishes Thirty One West from your typical concert hall. It’s about building that elusive connection between artists and audiences into something that doesn’t fade away after the encore.

“We started the 31 Club when we launched, which is our $100 membership. The idea was to embrace our core audience, get feedback, offer some cool perks, and create a relationship and a dialogue to know how we were doing. We do member appreciation shows, there are discounts at our bar, discounts on our merch, we open access to ticket sales early, and give away tickets via lottery,” Atha explained. “This past year, we extended our memberships to include a Season Pass at the $500 level. That includes two general admission tickets to every show for the calendar year. You still get all of the perks of the 31 Club, plus a couple of tickets to each show.”

Imagine buying concert tickets like Netflix instead of going to Blockbuster back in the day. Instead of only going to see the bands you know, you’re more likely to discover new ones — and that’s kind of the point.

“Folks were coming out to shows they never would have otherwise. If we have enough members who do that, we can take bigger risks as a music venue, and do a better job curating, if we know there is a core audience to support it,” Atha revealed.

Thirty One West also created the Stereogram Sessions, bringing two musicians into the studio separately, laying down four or five tracks, pressing each session to a side, and hosting a vinyl release party featuring both of the artists.

“It marries both of my endeavors in downtown Newark together. But there was another challenge we were also trying to solve. We’ve had success bringing in national talent, but we’ve had a harder time booking acts from Columbus because audiences can see them there anytime,” Atha explained. “So that’s where the idea was born, let’s give Columbus audiences an excuse to come here to see a Columbus act by offering a different experience. We’re a listening room, so we appreciate when music is valued in a focused way. Vinyl accomplishes that in a way digital streaming can’t and ties our performances at Thirty One West to a permanent product.”

Luckily, you don’t have to wait for the next show or a vinyl release to stop by the street-level bar below the ballroom

“The Bootlegger was created and branded as its own space, because it’s open whether or not there is a concert,” Atha explained. “We never charge admission for events at the Bootlegger. It gives us a connection to the community and a great place to vet talent as potential openers for future shows.”

Locals are still discovering Thirty One West, but so are folks from surrounding cities and states, slowly building that loyal base of patrons and supporters competing venues will surely envy.

“We still have first timers coming through our doors all the time, but we’re starting to build that core audience we’ve always wanted. But people are still coming here to see the bands, so we do everything we can to treat them well,” Atha noted. “That feedback that makes it back to the booking agencies or management is what sets us apart. It’s why we get calls for shows routing through Ohio wanting to try someplace new. It’s still a hard pitch, but it’s why artist feedback on what we do differently is essential — and we try to knock it out of the park with every show.” ▩

For details on upcoming shows at Thirty One West, or to see their Ballroom Revival Sessions, visit thirtyone-west.com

October 3, 2018

Candid Cameron

Originally published in the October 2018 issue of (614) Magazine

Let’s be honest. You’re probably better off not knowing what happens behind the scenes in most restaurants. But sometimes you should. And that’s the case with Cameron Mitchell Restaurants, whose bona fide empire of Columbus-based brands has arguably enhanced our culinary scene’s national credibility.

From Cap City to The Pearl, Marcella’s to Molly Woo’s—on the surface, their concepts couldn’t be more different. The thread that binds them together is their training, and not just the kind you get in the kitchen or on the house floor.

Between colossal chains and dinky diners, the American restaurant industry is absolutely inordinate, racking up more in annual sales than airlines, agriculture, and the movie industry combined. Nearly half of us have worked in food service at some point. Often it’s our first job, something on the side when times are tight, or just enough hours in retirement to stay active and connected to our community.

But for others, it’s a first calling, or a passion stumbled into on the way to something else. And if that’s you, Cameron Mitchell might be the best mentor in Columbus—maybe anywhere—because he’s been there.

There’s a fine line between corporate culture and a corporate cult, and I have to confess as an outsider slipping into the second story ballroom at The Joseph among the new staff of the then pending Harvey & Ed’s, I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect. I’d paid my dues decades ago on both sides of the grill, but never in posh digs like these. I presumed it would be all about teambuilding and imbuing everyone with a shared purpose. But it was much more intimate and illuminating than I ever anticipated.

Cameron Mitchell Restaurants fosters legendary loyalty, with most leadership promoted from within. But how they build that fierce following has always been behind a curtain. Would it go too far and get weird? Should I be ready for some trust falls or prepare for a trunk full of kitsch and delusional enthusiasm like those leaving an Amway seminar?

Fortunately, this wasn’t either of those scenarios, far from it. And it was surely no canned college orientation either, though the sense of camaraderie was pretty close. No, that loyalty starts with the guy whose name is on every paycheck—Cameron Mitchell, the headliner and head honcho all rolled into one.

With a brand that has become locally synonymous with fine dining, Cameron Mitchell wasn’t supposed to succeed by every empirical predictor. He didn’t have the grades, the money, or the work ethic to keep a job, much less create them. (His restaurant ranks now top 4,000 employees and counting.)

It’s an unlikely story, but one he shares with a surprising honesty and humility with those just starting out in the industry he’s helped to innovate, despite his early struggles and shortcomings, personal and professional.

“I remember coming home from school when I was nine and asking my mom when my dad was coming home, and she said, ‘He’s not’,” Mitchell recalled. “That’s how I learned my parents were splitting up.”

He saw less and less of his father over time before fading from the picture entirely, and the stress of the situation often put him at odds with his mother. School wasn’t a priority and by junior high he’d already fallen in with the wrong crowd—smoking, drinking, and worse.

“I was spiraling downward. My mom and I were fighting constantly. I came home one day and she said, ‘Tomorrow we have a meeting with Franklin County Childrens Services; we’re going to straighten you out,’” he revealed. “I wasn’t really sure what that meant, but I didn’t like it. So when she left for work the next morning, I took everything I could and moved out.”

Mitchell settled in a tiny apartment near campus that was a flophouse for runaways, over-occupied to keep everyone’s share of the rent low. He was only 15-years-old, and on his own.

“I’d work odd jobs, mow lawns. I stole and sold drugs,” he confessed. “At one point, I hadn’t eaten for a few days, so bought a 27-cent box of macaroni and cheese and made it without any milk or butter, just water. I was a troubled kid, on the run.”

Out of money and options, Mitchell eventually returned and reconciled with his mother. He went back to school the following day, wearing a dress shirt and slacks, the only clothes he’d left behind, having come home with only jeans and the t-shirt on his back.

“My mom was an administrative assistant, and my dad had quit sending any child support, so she literally couldn’t afford to send me lunch money,” he admitted. “For a while, I worked in the school cafeteria just to earn enough to eat there.”

He picked up a part-time job after school washing dishes at a local steakhouse, but his grades still suffered. He failed the same English composition course three times and wasn’t able to walk for graduation, only barely earning a diploma after summer school.

“I graduated 592nd out of 597 in my class with a GPA of 1.05; only because I got one C—in public speaking,” he chided. “That’s when I went to work at Max & Erma’s as a fry cook.”

Back in 1981, Max & Erma’s wasn’t the struggling shadow of its former self that it is today. Some nights they’d serve upwards of 1,000 guests on a weekend. It was bustling and brisk, with an energy Mitchell ultimately embraced after his friends mostly left for college or better jobs elsewhere.

“I was working a double shift, an AM cook and a PM host, on a Friday afternoon. The place was about half full at 4 p.m. during the shift change, and the bar was already packed. There was pandemonium in the kitchen. The managers were barking orders, and I looked out across the line and time froze,” he recalled. “I decided this was what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I wanted to be in the restaurant business.”

The “laziest guy in the kitchen,” by his own admission, had finally found his calling and wasted no time. At the end of his shift, he went home and mapped out the next decade of his life on paper, as well as the goals it would take to get there, from executive chef to president of a restaurant company.

After picking up a couple of classes at Columbus State, he was accepted at the Culinary Institute of America in New York after an initial rejection due to his lackluster high school performance. Returning to Columbus, he landed a new job at 55 at Crosswoods, the restaurant group’s second location, which at the time was among the premiere white tablecloth restaurants in the city. From sous chef to executive chef by age 23, general manager a year later, and an operations executive by 28, his unlikely rise reached a hard and sudden stop.

“I started hitting my head on the ceiling. I knew my boss wasn’t going anywhere, and it was a hip-pocket business for a group of investors who really didn’t care about the restaurants,” he explained. “I was waiting on a friend for drinks watching patrons and employees pass by when I had another epiphany. If I wanted to become president of a restaurant group, I should start my own.”

Mitchell tapped into the insight of his younger self, this time mapping out the future of the company that would ultimately bear his name. Though most won’t believe it, Cameron Mitchell Restaurants was started out of an apartment at The Continent with a few thousands dollars in savings and a yellow legal pad.

Now with industry connections and a proven track record, he pulled together a business plan and the financing needed to make his destiny a reality. But it nearly fell apart, twice.

“It was never my goal to open just one restaurant. This was the start of something bigger. I found a space near the North Market and put a deal together,” he revealed. “I’d raised $600k for the project, and we were ready to sign the lease. Then the landlord went silent on me.”

Mitchell was bootstrapping the project with every dime he could scrape together just as his fears were confirmed. The building’s owner was filing for bankruptcy. The bank was taking it over and had no interest in assuming any further risk with a first-time restaurateur still shy of 30.

The setback was crushing, worse by having come so close. Mitchell started sending investors back their checks. He’d put everything into the project, even moving back into his mother’s condo, but practically living at Kinko’s. There was another space in Worthington he’d initially discounted when he couldn’t pull the financing together fast enough. But because of the legalities of creating a company, he essentially had to start over from scratch.

“I’d already dismissed it, but then their tenant fell through. I met with the landlord, who took a liking to me and decided to take a chance,” he admitted. “I was rolling change on my mother’s dining room table to have enough money for groceries. It was do or die.”

Enough investors still had faith in the restaurant concept to get close to the necessary funding to move forward. But the change in location and way the previous deal collapsed forced some to sit this one out. Mitchell was still short and scrambled to schedule one final meeting with a prospective investor to close the gap the day before the financing was due.

“He asked me how much. I told him I only needed $30k, hoping I might get half of it and have enough to buy some more time to raise the rest,” he confessed. “He wrote me a personal check for $30k and told me to buy more stock in the company for myself. That’s when I knew I’d get my start.”

Cameron Mitchell Restaurants was born, and that first project that nearly never happened, is Cameron’s American Bistro, celebrating its 25th anniversary this October.

Since then, new concepts have become part of the family, as well as a catering company and their own restaurant construction business. Rusty Bucket Restaurant and Tavern and Ocean Prime have expanded the brand nationwide.

“I think it’s important to know the history of the company, one based on people. Associates come first. Associates take care of the guests, guests take care of the company,” he explained. “That’s the key, a company built on culture and values—not on me—one that I hope will survive long after I’m gone.” ▩

September 1, 2018

Cartoon Crossroads Columbus

Originally published in the September 2018 issue of (614) Magazine

As a geographic midpoint, Columbus has never quite matched the marketing moniker of Midwest. We’re too far east of the prairie pedigree of Omaha, yet still too far west to quite compete with the urban grit of Pittsburgh, or even our rust belt cousins in Cleveland.

But as an approachable nexus where ideas and innovation cross paths comfortably, free from the egos of the coasts, you’d be hard pressed to find a better place to launch something new. That’s why Cartoon Crossroads Columbus, or CXC, makes so much sense for a city never afraid to invest in the next creative frontier.

“Comics aren’t only about superheroes. They’re about everything. I think most folks will be surprised by the depth and variety,” explained Jeff Smith, acclaimed creator of BONE, ambassador of comic street cred, and president of CXC. “These things go back to the beginning of the last century, and include silent animations, game-changing editorial cartoons, and the birth of some of our most iconic characters.”

Point of fact, it actually was a couple of guys from Ohio who created Superman. But cult legends R. Crumb and Harvey Pekar also forged their distinctive styles here. Maybe we aren’t exactly the middle of the country. But Ohio’s impact on the art form is undeniable, and perhaps Columbus deserves to become its unofficial center?

The four-day festival started with the ambitious agenda of becoming the South by Southwest of illustrated storytelling. Now four years in with events throughout Columbus connecting historic context and cutting edge content, CXC continues to evolve by honoring industry veterans and celebrating emerging artists often outside the mainstream.

“Most of the institutions involved were already bringing in world-class cartoonists in multiple disciplines, like graphic novels, comic strips, and animation,” Smith noted. “When you visit some of our exhibits and venues, you will meet cartoonists who animate feature films and indie films. You’ll meet established artists and the best of the new.”

Event locations fall into two enclaves, with downtown activities at the Columbus Museum of Art, Columbus College of Art & Design, and the main branch of the Columbus Metropolitan Library, as well as those at Ohio State, including the Wexner Center for the Arts, the Billy Ireland Cartoon Library & Museum, and Hale Hall, which hosts SÕL-CON, an expo featuring Latino and African-American artists expanding the genre.

One of those new voices is Ohio native Travis Horseman, whose acting background and stage experience aren’t the traditional résumé of a graphic novelist.

“Until I started about five years ago, I was largely unaware of the vibrant comic creator community in Columbus,” admitted Horseman, a first time exhibitor joining more than a hundred fellow artists also invited to share their work at CXC. “Luckily, there were people willing to show me the ropes. That how I first learned about Cartoon Crossroads.”

His first project, Amiculus: A Secret History, is set during the fall of the Roman Empire and garnered critical comparisons to Game of Thrones for its sophisticated plotlines and complex characters. The trilogy was funded through Kickstarter, an increasingly popular platform for first-time comic artists. But the project actually grew out of Horseman’s alter ego as an actor.

“I tried several different formats before settling on a graphic novel. I’m a very visual storyteller and the medium just seemed to work better for my ideas,” he noted. “I see the images that bring my characters to life as I write.”

Graphic novels share the same cinematic style as film and television, but aren’t limited by cumbersome and costly digital and practical effects. Shot blocking and storyboards are akin to comic book panels, and the right artist with the right tools can create content every bit as stunning as a big budget feature.

“Amiculus started out as a short play, then a short story. I’d always been a fan of comics and decided thinking about it as one might help with some of my writers block,” he recalled. “My 32-page short story quickly grew to 240 pages. But by then, it wasn’t just a novel. It was a story that deserved to be a graphic novel.”

Already connected to the local theater scene, he knew the expertise he needed was probably hiding in plain sight amongst the local comic community. Horseman admits he was essentially starting from scratch. But he was fortunate to find guides to put him on the right path, eventually leading to a spot at CXC.

“It’s a tough ticket to get. There are always more applicants than tables for exhibitors,” he revealed. “I’ve been part of other creative communities, but I don’t think I’ve ever been part of a more supportive one. There isn’t a mix of artists and creators anywhere in the country quite like it.”

His current project is also crowd funded, with a campaign cleverly scheduled to run concurrently with CXC. This new saga still has an unlikely setting, but with a contemporary timeline about a forgotten chapter of American history much closer to home.

“Sugar Creek is unfamiliar territory as our first horror book,” he explained. With the true story of a post-colonial conflict in 1791 that wiped out a quarter of the nation’s new army in a single battle as the backdrop, the bloody footnote takes an even darker turn. “I’ve been describing it as our Ohio project because it’s not just set in Ohio. Everyone working on it is from Ohio.”

More than a tradeshow or fan experience, CXC was initially modeled after Smith’s own travels as an artist to American and international comic conventions that focus on creating connections as well. But fostering that local spirit of collaboration extends beyond the individual artists and permeates the entire event and the city that surroundings it.

“People enjoy working together here,” explained Smith. “The ease with which private and public institutions work together is exactly why a celebration like Cartoon Crossroads Columbus can take place.”

For details on Cartoon Crossroads Columbus, visit cartooncrossroadscolumbus.com