Category: Retro (page 2 of 6)

March 1, 2020

Esports Engine Goes Global

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

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

January 1, 2020

Growing Up Ezzo

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.” ▩

For more on Ezzo Sausage Company, visit ezzo.com

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

Eclectic Entertaining

Originally published in the Winter 2019 issue of Stock & Barrel

Columbus is the city of the next century. But sometimes it’s difficult to see during your daily drive, even harder if you’re only home for the holidays. If that long-lost college cohort or twice-removed cousin hasn’t stopped by since the waning days of MySpace, the local to-do list is almost too long to fathom. So if you’re looking for someplace new or unique to impress your out-of-town guests, consider these enviable options.

Where to find unpretentious eats well after midnight

Hounddog’s Pizza · 2657 N High Street

The Old North is just far enough away from campus and just south enough of Clintonville to carve out its own neighborhood identity. Columbus-style pizza is still king, but the chewy garlic butter handle of Smokin’ Joes hand-tossed crust and sauce are essential. Try the veggie-heavy Backyard Dog, or keep it classic with spicy Italian sausage, fresh garlic, and extra cheese.

Dirty Frank’s Hot Dog Palace · 248 S 4th Street

This once sleepy stretch of street has become a downtown hub of hip haunts in the past decade. Choose from more than three dozen signature hot dogs, brats, polish sausages, or veggie dogs—or create your own. The Pittsburgh Princess is a notable nod to Primanti Brothers’ legendary sandwich, dressed with creamy slaw, hand-cut fries, and a splash of malt vinegar.

Where to take your siblings who think the suburbs aren’t sophisticated

Lupo on Arlington · 2124 Arlington Avenue

An obscure enclave of boutique retail shops may not seem like the obvious complement for Spanish small plates. But the dynamic tapas menu was the perfect fit for the former bank whose exposed vault door mechanisms remain a decorative accent. Though the featured fare changes frequently, the octopus a la plancha and lamb meatballs have become much-beloved staples.

Hen Quarter · 6628 Riverside Drive

Southern standards find a fresh take at the intersection of rustic and refined. Don’t let their bottomless brunch delay a visit. Succulent fried chicken served with brown butter waffles, bourbon maple syrup, and a side of collards are always on the menu—as are the impressive smoked short ribs, with ginger cilantro rice, Brussels sprouts, and green tomato kimchi.

Where to settle a bet with friends who like to keep score

Columbus Axe Throwing · 560 S High Street

Channel your inner lumberjack with a sport more dangerous than darts, but still slightly safer than jousting. Few seasonal frustrations and family feuds can’t be settled by a few rounds of hurling a lethal hunk of steel at a wooden target. Even amateurs will leave better prepared for the zombie apocalypse. Ash & Em’s smart “starters” and smashed burgers are equally sharp.

Pins Mechanical · 141 N 4th Street and 6558 Riverside Drive

Duckpin bowling, pinball, and ping pong dominate this novel destination for kinetic entertainment, now with an additional location in Dublin. Start with paddles, a little flipper action, or foosball as an appetizer. The diminutive dimensions of duckpin makes it the perfect scale for kids of all ages, with adults-only hours after 8PM. Rotating food trucks keep the menu fresh.

Where to imbibe elevated cocktails with a view to match

Juniper · 580 N 4th Street

The standard speakeasy is a hidden haunt. But this one literally ups the ante by hiding on the roof of Smith Brothers Hardware, offering Caribbean cuisine and just the right vantage of the city skyline. Try a plate of authentic Johnny cakes and the crispy-skin parrot fish coupled with one of their reimagined, prohibition-era cocktails like the Tropical Knees, Lion’s Tail, or Pith and Peel.

Lincoln Social · 711 N High Street

Del Mar SoCal Kitchen’s Midwest twist on coastal cuisine is perhaps only rivaled by its sister establishment’s exclusive rooftop patio. Among the more innovate alcoholic beverage offerings, Cameron Mitchell can also claim the city’s first CBD “mocktail”. Mellow Beets is a raw juice blend of beet, carrot, apple, and ginger balanced by a cannabis-infused, blood orange soda.

Where to go with those who seek and savor something secret

Sacred Palm · 457 N High Street

High Street has plenty of hotspots, but few are as elusive as the one in the basement of Mikey’s Late Night Slice in the Short North. Cleverly concealed by an old walk-in cooler beyond repair is a secret tiki bar. Tropical tropes set the tone for the tiny oasis illuminated in pink and purple. Umbrella drinks served in ceramic tumblers complete the immersive, island-inspired experience.

The Light of Seven Matchsticks · 5601 N High Street

The unmarked entrance for the underground establishment beneath Natalie’s Coal-Fired Pizza is entirely on-brand for the quaint and quirky bar about the size of a box car. Wes Anderson himself would be hard-pressed to improve on the iconoclastic niché whose namesake is the fictitious tome featured in his film, Moonrise Kingdom. Even the bar’s select menu is a secret. ▩

September 1, 2019

Renovation Meets Preservation

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

Neighborhoods are defined by more than just houses and their history. But aging architecture often creates community as homeowners share struggles and success, collectively trying to preserve the past and embrace the future.

Few Columbus enclaves are as eclectic or iconic as the Short North. Flanking an ever-evolving commercial corridor and heart of the local arts scene for decades are two distinct neighbors that seek the perfect balance between renovation and innovation —Victorian Village and Italian Village. Celebrating this convergence is the Short North Tour of Homes & Gardens, an annual affair now marking its 45th year. Most tours of this type tend to favor early summer to beat the heat and ensure everything is in full bloom. But the neighborhood that’s never afraid to start a new trend showcases their homes in early fall instead, offering a slightly different lens on faithful restoration that combines classic and contemporary.

Décor is a reflection of personality, but design often requires additional instincts and insights. Architecture isn’t for amateurs. That’s when Steven Hurtt gets involved. The principle partner of Urban Order happens to have had a hand in half of the homes on this year’s tour.

“The first step in the process is to ask clients what they’re looking for—like a larger kitchen or a mud room—amenities that don’t exist in these older homes,” Hurtt explained. “We live differently now than when many of these homes were built.”

Much of American history and popular cultural is chronicled through hints found in home design. From ordinary to ornate, simple to sophisticated, the bones of any house offer clues to changing dynamics and demographics. Living spaces were formal or informal with little overlap. The average family size increased and decreased over time. Kitchens were for cooking, not eating. Hardly anyone had a closet, much less one you could walk in.

“Our clients want the charm of an older home, but they also want a larger bathroom or a master suite,” he noted. “How do you reconfigure existing space or add on to accommodate more modern living?”

Consistency is frequently the demarcation from one neighborhood to the next. Even empty lots that are occupied decades after adjacent homes were built tend adhere to the architectural elements of the era. But the Short North has always blurred the line of old and new, and the Tour of Homes & Gardens attempts to capture that range of styles found in the streets that surrounding it. The mix of homes on this year’s tour is no exception, a snapshot of the Short North itself.

“One of the homes on the tour, by adding just a little one-story piece, we were able to create a back porch, a powder room, and a rear entrance with a mud room,” Hurtt explained. “That gets all of those things out of space of the existing house so we could make a bigger kitchen.”

A living level laundry hardly seem like a luxury request, but running power and plumbing to an unused alcove isn’t always uneventful. Renovations may require removing layers of earlier modifications that lacked necessary foresight just to get down to a clean slate. Some early architectural elements seem like anachronisms, but may still serve a more modern purpose. Hurtt conceded eliminating a butler’s pantry is often the best option to expand an existing kitchen into a more spacious entertaining area. But he has also introduced them into new kitchens as prep or clean up space for those who prefer to reserve the kitchen proper for guests without the obvious mess.

Additional homes on the tour Urban Order helped to improve include a warehouse conversion to an open floor plan, two extensive interior reconfigurations within the existing footprint, and a new build for a couple who has lived in the neighborhood for years and loved it so much they couldn’t imagine moving to start construction anywhere else.

“Reconfiguring existing space only goes so far,” he admitted. “We do a lot of additions, and work with the Victorian Village Commission and the Italian Village Commission to maintain the integrity of the existing architecture. Any alterations need to be sensitive to that.”

Preservation isn’t just practical; it has to be integral. Not all neighborhoods have such restrictions, but those that do tend to hold their value. Even if it adds to the cost or complexity, these efforts to preserve what would otherwise be easily lost pay off when homes sell, or in hindsight as homeowners appreciate the extra effort once the project is complete. The dramatic contrast between Queen Anne and quaint cottage also highlights the extremes found within just a few blocks and perhaps offsets the less tempered pace of change along High Street, a retail upheaval many long-time residents fear is increasingly pushing local businesses out.

“We’ve been doing this for so long, we can anticipate the kind of response we’re likely to get from the architectural review. It might not make sense to move every wall,” Hurtt revealed. “We have clients who come to us with ideas that may prove problematic, but we can offer options they may not have considered to achieve the same goals while still respecting the charm of their homes and the character of the neighborhood.” ▩

The Short North Tour of Homes & Gardens is September 15. For details, visit shortnorthcivic.org/home-tour

September 1, 2019

Steak House Nostalgia

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

Columbus is famous for a lot of culinary firsts, but rarely one of the last.

York Steak House was once the prototype for red meat with a regal motif. While the rest of the restaurant industry was trying to sell commodity steak cafeteria style with strained western metaphors, York was quietly building a kingdom of castle-inspired eateries.

Founded in Columbus and topping out at 200 locations nationwide, when the mall craze collapsed and tastes changed, York’s fortunes fell. But the very last one has survived and thrived for more than half a century on West Broad Street by remaining largely unchanged thanks to the steady, perhaps stubborn, strategy still championed by owner Jay Bettin, who turned an abandoned outpost of a dying empire into a nostalgic dining destination.

“What made them really successful in the 70s and 80s was that they were in shopping malls. Folks used to go out on Friday night, do some shopping, see a movie, and eat at York,” recalled Bettin. “We were one of only ten locations that was freestanding, so when malls started to suffer, it didn’t hit us the same way. But you could still see it coming.”

Much like the latest season of Stranger Things, there was always something dark and sinister beneath the slick façade of the shopping mall. When Northland, Eastland, and Westland opened in the 60s, they soon sucked shoppers away from local businesses. Then when City Center opened downtown just as the mall phenomenon was fading, there was a retail reckoning for the once bustling suburban satellites.

“We were originally part of a buyout. A guy was buying 25 York locations and planned to turn them into Bonanza franchises. I was general manager here and asked him if he would sell me just this one and he could keep the rest,” Bettin explained. “But then Ponderosa bought Bonanza and his deal fell through. Suddenly, mine was the only one left.”

Jay Bettin isn’t trying to give Jeff Ruby a run for his money, even with an enviable head start. Nor is he chasing the latest trends. You won’t find free wifi or a convoluted allergen-friendly menu. There isn’t a rack of fixed-gear bicycles or hipsters taking pictures of their food as it grows cold either. Point of fact, the last time I was there for lunch, I was the only one among more than 40 patrons shamefully pecking on a smartphone.

“Even though we were a chain, we always ran it like a local business. We know our regulars by name, and they often know each other,” Bettin noted. “We went back to what made York great in the beginning — quality food and quick service in a clean restaurant. We kept it simple.”

Simple is a deceptive understatement. Bettin reconsidered every item on the menu and element of the experience, from ingredients to presentation. The location was among the first Yorks to add a salad bar, to fend off competitors who had already done the same. And by salad, he means “salad”, not some bloated buffet with heat lamps and entrees that have been out there for hours.

“We don’t claim to have the biggest salad bar in Columbus, but I guarantee everything on it is cut fresh here and isn’t pre-chopped and poured out of a bag,” he revealed. ”Most family-priced steakhouses were focusing more on the buffet than their dinner. It’s hard to do both well.”

York Steak House started as a family restaurant that became a family business. Bettin credits his wife with subtle updates to the interior that still preserve the original aesthetic. Their three kids grew up in the restaurant, and all worked there. Their daughter still puts in a few hours a week despite a career elsewhere. Then there’s Jon Bettin, who works side-by-side with his father, poised to continue the York legacy.

“People come here for the atmosphere, because it brings back childhood memories. When my son Jon was about five, we used to come in the morning and he’d ride his scooter around the dining room,” Bettin recalled. “He’s kind enough to let me feel like I still know everything and I’m in charge. But he’s also smart enough to know he can change things that need to be changed. We share that understanding.”

Sirloin tips are still the number one seller. Even without adding mushrooms or grilled onions, they beat any backyard steak and are surely superior to a few more famous filets at twice the price. And with chicken, seafood, and pasta also on the menu, you could eat at York several times a week, and many do. There aren’t many restaurants where you can walk in with a group of eight people and get seated immediately, much less order in minutes and be out the door again in an hour.

“I don’t have the overhead of a corporate office. It keeps our prices low. My clientele is a little older and I’m obviously not going after the bar crowd.” he chided. “Our meat isn’t marinated or over-seasoned and all of our steaks are cooked to order. For the money, you’re never going to find a better steak.”

Bettin’s early experience working in a bakery also shows in the dessert options. While the industry average suggests about five percent of patrons order dessert, York consistently finds closer to a third of its customers like to grab a slice at the beginning of the line, instead of ordering it at the end of the meal like most restaurants.

“Our peanut butter chocolate cream pie is one of our best,” Bettin admitted. “The fudge cake has been a standard from the start, but now we bake it in house. It’s even better than it was 40 years ago.”

Hollywood Casino gave the business a little boost when things were starting to slow down. Bettin credits name recognition and nostalgia, but he’s also amused that folks come from far and wide to drop a few hundred bucks down the block, but still stop by York. The license plates in his parking lot reveal cars from neighboring states, but also from Texas to Florida, Missouri to Massachusetts.

“Our parking lot is in the back, so folks are sometimes surprised we’re still open. People tell us they planned their vacation route to come here. It’s humbling that folks will go that far out of their way to eat at our restaurant,” Bettin confessed. “We’ve always been a destination. When people leave their homes, they know they’re going to York Steak House. But now, we don’t always know just how far they traveled to get here.”

York Steak House is located at 4220 W Broad, and is also the only location to ever have a website: york-steakhouse.com

August 1, 2019

Still the Shazzbots

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

Kids music tends to get a bad wrap for good reason. From the Wiggles to Barney, inane to annoying, somewhere along the way, “kids” and “music” became decoupled, as though children don’t deserve sincere songwriting, and education and entertainment also became mutually exclusive.

That’s why parents are over the Moon for the Shazzbots, the credible Columbus kids band that might just save the universe from one more infernal refrain of “Fruit Salad” or a hyperkinetic purple dinosaur professing his creepy affection. Founded by Ian Hummel more than a decade ago, live shows eventually evolved into an Emmy-winning television pilot, funded entirely by loyal fans. Their latest album, LIGHTSPEED!, is their long-awaited third release and an apt metaphor for their change in trajectory, marked by a growing international audience.

“When we first started, it was just songs. But I didn’t want it to just be me. I wanted it to be more, something along the lines of Sesame Street, with characters and a backstory behind the songs,” recalled Hummel, whose nautical alter ego Captain Captain travels the galaxy with an acoustic guitar and an archetypical band of misfits in a heavily-modified Winnebago. “We weren’t even sure what form the band would take. For a while, there was no drummer, only percussion. For a hot minute, there was even an accordion.”

Hummel recruited friend and bass player Mike “Navigator Scopes” Heslop to help craft the band’s elaborate backstory, with characters whose talents matched those of their real-life counterparts. Josh Tully, better know to kids as Professor Swiss Vanderburton, moved back to electric guitar when Steve Frye, aka Watts Watson, settled in behind the skins. That initial lineup has remained unchanged, but there have been three female members of the crew. Amber Allen as Debora Nebula, Molly Winters as Aurora Borealis, and Diane Hummel as Luna Stardust, who rounds out percussion and also happens to be married to a certain space captain.

“It’s important to have female role models, and you can see from the stage how little girls connect with Luna Stardust,” noted Hummel. “Her costume is still girly, but you can tell she’s a member of the crew. There’s a team dynamic you see in cartoons like Voltron and Thundercats I knew I wanted in the Shazzbots.”

Though the age of their audience has stayed the same, expectations for the entire music industry changed course. Social media was barely a blip when the band began, and streaming services were almost nonexistent. Now they’re essential. But this too is where the Shazzbots shine, a retro band ready for a new frontier.

“After filming the television show and getting it on Amazon, we kind of hit a wall deciding what was next,” he admitted. “So we spent nearly a year creating content for YouTube, something new every week. Kids still listen to songs in the car, but they also watch music videos on their iPads. You have to be available everywhere they are.”

Another giant leap into this new era for the band required rethinking the brand. Matthew Hubbard, one of the filmmakers behind the TV pilot, helped tap into the emerging “kindie” industry, clever slang for independent music catering to kids. Unlike commodity kids bands created to make a quick buck, so-called kindie artists are steeped in the sincere songwriting tradition that predates the digital age. They Might Be Giants and Dan Zanes are more contemporary ambassadors for children’s music with a message, but even Johnny Cash and Woody Guthrie released kids album every bit as sophisticated as their more famous fare.

“Embracing the kindie label, as well as working through a distributor and with a PR person who understand that audience, has really opened doors,” Hubbard explained. “We’re now available on Sirius XM Kids Place Live and Shazzbots albums are in more than 600 libraries nationwide. There are also all of the major streaming services, Spotify, Amazon, and Apple as well helping to reach a global audience.”

The irony of the Shazzbots now broadcasting songs via satellite hasn’t escaped the band. It’s probably impossible to be more on brand. But that doesn’t diminish the analog roots and inspiration behind LIGHTSPEED!, available on CD, digital, and as an actual vinyl record with an intricately illustrated gatefold cover featuring a cross-section of the ship created by artist Joel Jackson, whom many may recognize as the ominous pirate from the television pilot’s cliffhanger ending.

“These new streaming options and the release of the new album have given us more reach and more information than we’ve ever had before,” Hubbard noted. “We know how many people are watching the TV show, which is really starting to take off in the UK. We can see which songs are doing well in Australia, a market that is also growing due to songs getting play on the inflight kids entertainment service on Quantas airlines. We use these insights to decide which song should be next for a music video, or maybe shouldn’t, at least not right now.”

“Having all of this data can be overwhelming, and you can overthink it. It can reinforce your instincts as a musician, but you also have to be careful not to let it affect you too much as an artist,” Hummel explained. “These are great tools to have, but you can’t let them keep you from pushing boundaries by trying to find a formula for success. Sometimes those simple little songs will surprise you.”

Plenty of musicians have been there before, watching an outtake or alternate track that barely made an album resonate unexpectedly, despite prevailing opinion. It’s also why live shows remain the best market research for the Shazzbots, even now that some of their earliest fans are old enough to be in college. Requests from the audience, often songs that may not have the obvious hallmarks of a hit single, still spark something unexpected. It’s evidence that those obscure deep cuts have sticking power too, feedback a synthetic studio-only kids band just wouldn’t understand.

“I was playing at Big Fun last weekend, and a dad and his two daughters were there. The youngest daughter was wearing one of our t-shirts she’d gotten as a hand-me-down from her sister who is now a teenager,” Hummel revealed. “The older daughter still knew all of the songs. It’s something they shared. She grew out of the shirt, but not the Shazzbots.” ▩

For more on the Shazzbots, LIGHTSPEED!, and upcoming live shows, visit theshazzbots.com

August 1, 2019

Inside the Moai

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

The unexpected closing of the Grass Skirt Tiki Room later this month isn’t the first time local tiki fans have been broken-hearted.

When the Kahiki sadly shuttered its doors nearly two decades ago, it wasn’t just the end of an era in Columbus. It was the largest restaurant of its kind in the country, and nothing matching its quirky architectural grandeur has been seen since.

Faithful fans still seek coveted collectables, scouring thrift stores and flea markets for rare finds. But there’s also a secret sect of tiki enthusiasts hiding in plain sight, quietly curating vintage kitsch while anonymously funding worthy causes from coast to coast. They call themselves the Fraternal Order of Moai and even their members remain a mystery.

“When the Kahiki finally closed, many of us were in shock that it was actually gone. But for me, something kind of snapped,” confessed Matt “Kuku Ahu” Thatcher, one of the founders of the obscure order who prefers to go by his Moai moniker. “People wanted to hold onto a piece of the Kahiki by building their own basement tiki bars. But there were three of us who were less interested in finding the artifacts than the people who shared this same strange obsession.”

Nostalgia often comes at a premium price. One of those old Kahiki menus on eBay will set you back more than any entrée did back in the day, and a matchbook might cost you more than a carton of smokes. Even a ceramic tiki tumbler is more expensive than any drink it ever held. For committed collectors, these aren’t just treasures and trinkets. They’re art from a bygone age.

“We thought there might be a dozen of us, enough to get together for backyard luaus,” he chided. “I joked that maybe we should make it a real club with fezzes, like the Shriners. It sounded crazy, but the idea stuck.”

Before Facebook, there wasn’t a turnkey solution to easily locate a group of like-minded strangers. It was an internet scavenger hunt for people who didn’t know they were lost. So Ahu created an online forum and invited a few fellow fanatics, hoping to pull together enough folks to preserve the past before it faded away.

“We didn’t expect so many to immediately gravitate to the group. We set out to create something local, but we started getting interest from Dayton — then Wisconsin,” Ahu recalled. “There were already several online tiki forums. But we weren’t trying to become another group of experts, though we are a bunch of hardcore tiki aficionados. Our goal was always to build an order.”

The Fraternal Order of Moai is organized much like independent islands scattered across the vast Pacific, each with unique customs and rituals rooted in a common ancient culture. Individual groups each choose a cause or charity at the local level, but the Moai still operate as a self-described “pirate democracy” with elections and major decisions all coming down to a vote among the entire membership.

What seemed silly at the time has become something of a movement with ten chapters nationwide and at-large members worldwide. Some chapters were started by folks with Columbus ties. Others emerged independently, inspired by the capital city’s quiet tiki revival.

“Our group is secretive and selective, but our events are open to everyone,” Ahu explained. “People who come regularly, regardless of whether they’re members or not, become family we look forward to seeing just as much as we do each other.”

Their enigmatic membership is more than a secret handshake. “Tourist” is the tongue-in-cheek terminology for active attendees who are still outside the order. Those who think they’re worthy must earn the support of existing Moai and pass a series of challenges, which are also secret. Akin to the Shriners, the Moose Lodge, and similar animal orders, questions of character are answered through a process outlined on their website, coyly branded the “Port of the Initiate”.

The most obvious evidence of the Moai’s influence is also hiding in plain sight, surrounding unsuspecting guests at the Grass Skirt Tiki Room. When Columbus Food League decided downtown was overdue for a tiny tropical oasis, the Moai were early and eager to offer their insights and assistance. Members carved and cast much of the bar’s décor themselves, nearly every mask and lamp that makes the contemporary tiki bar feel older and more authentic than its seven-year history otherwise suggests. Ahu even admits he may have had a hand in developing the cocktail menu. (He’s a modest Moai.)

“Tiki bars that survive and succeed stick to certain archetypes and avoid mixing metaphors. Those that don’t tend to go under,” Ahu explained. “There are still a few classic supper clubs for the purists and Chinese restaurants that subsequently became tiki bars, so-called ‘fortune cookie tiki’. But the Southern California, flotsam and jetsam, tiki bars with layers of personality and lots of locals tend to stay around.”

The most iconic contribution to the Grass Skirt is undeniably the giant concrete monkey fountain named George, which used to grace the entrance of the Kahiki. With support from the Moai, and literally a last minute commitment of additional funds from the bar, George was saved from the same demise as fellow monuments from the fabled restaurant.

“We knew if we didn’t get him, he’d either end up in a private collection instead of the public eye, or rotting in a field,” he noted. Point of fact, the enormous Easter Island statues ended up essentially abandoned, while a short search on YouTube reveals the fate of the famous fireplace still sitting outdoors under a tarp. “After the auction, we went to pick him up at Kahiki frozen foods and realized they’d actually constructed the building around him. They offered to cut him into four pieces to remove him, but the auction said pickup was outside. You wouldn’t let someone cut a Corvette into four pieces if you were told you could pick it up in the parking lot?”

Somehow George ended up outside for pickup as promised. The Moai don’t know how he got there or if walls or windows were removed to do it. It seems even George has his secrets.

Aside from “Tiki Tuesdays”, the only time local members really surface publicly is once a year in August for the annual Hula Hop, a charity event that raises money for Cure CMD, an organization that funds efforts to treat congenital muscular dystrophy, and serves as an annual call to prospective members, some of whom aren’t even old enough to remember the authentic longhouse that used to be off East Broad Street.

“We didn’t think we could pull off an all-day tiki event in Columbus when we started, so it was a ‘Hot Rod Hula Hop’, with classic cars and we brought in all of the decorations to turn a regular bar into a tiki bar,” Ahu explained. “But now with the Grass Skirt, it’s become just the ‘Hula Hop’ with five live bands, vendors, and food trucks. Instead of selling tickets or charging a cover, folks come for free, buy drinks and make donations directly. People know where their money goes.”

The Fraternal Order of Moai, whose exact ranks remain unknown, has funded several studies and drug trials through Cure CMD. But recognition and notoriety were never the goal.

“It was a cockamamie idea that started out as performance art, but it turned into something more,” Ahu admitted. “Now we’re a registered nonprofit and pretty darned legit. Tiki bars are popping up across the country, even in Europe. But in Columbus, even after the Kahiki closed, they never really went away.” ▩

The 2019 Hula Hop is August 10 at the Grass Skirt Tiki Room, 105 N Grant Avenue.

For details on the event and the Fraternal Order of Moai, visit fraternalorderofmoai.org

July 20, 2019

From Ohio to the Moon

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

It’s difficult to fathom in the age of a thousand channels — not to mention Netflix, Amazon, and Hulu — a single moment when the entire world was watching the same thing at the same time on television. But in July of 1969, nearly every set was tuned in to watch human history unfold.

Five decades is a long time to forget, and grainy footage and faded photos let memories dim and make the achievement sometimes seem more distant than the Moon itself. It was Ohio’s own John Glenn who first took Americans into space, and Neil Armstrong who placed that first footprint on the lunar surface. So it was only fitting that two guys from Ohio would once again astound audiences with the imagery and adrenaline of that fabled first step on our nearest celestial neighbor.

Todd Douglas Miller and Matt Morton grew up together in Gahanna and have known each other since grade school. Their short-lived high school band played a few graduation gigs, but when it came time for college, they parted ways yet remained creatively connected. Miller moved to Michigan for film school, but when his student documentary set in their hometown needed some songs to round it out, Morton’s college band he’d formed at Denison University supplied the soundtrack. It was their first filmmaking collaboration, but hardly their last.

At this year’s Sundance Film Festival, their latest project, Apollo 11, stunned the jury and the industry with long-forgotten, large-format footage that made the Moon launch look like it happened yesterday. They’d set out to make a movie, but created a time machine.

“When we first contacted the National Archives about transferring every frame of film they had from Apollo 11, I’m sure they thought I was nuts,” recalled Miller. He knew the task was so daunting that no one in half a century had dared to even consider it. “About three months into the project, they wrote us an email with a progress report on everything they had in 16mm and 35mm from their NASA collection. But buried in the middle of the message was this discovery of 65mm Panavision footage. We didn’t know how much or the condition at the time, but it looked promising.”

“Promising” is polite parlance for unknown, but optimistic. Some of the reels had dates, a few even had shot lists. Others just had Apollo 11. It was an uncataloged mess by studio standards, but an untouched tomb of priceless artifacts to Miller and his team.

“The parallel story is that the post production facility I’d been working with in New York for a very long time was just getting into the film scanning business when a lot of companies were getting out,” Miller explained. “They were developing technologies that could handle large format film up to 70mm. The stars really did align.”

In an earlier era of film before a stream of electrons delivered pristine pictures and sound, images and audio weren’t one product until a film was edited and printed for exhibition. Apollo 11 curates thousands of hours of both down to an hour and a half opus using raw materials and equipment designed specifically for the project, most of it never seen or heard before. Miller and the team worked for weeks in three shifts, 24 hours a day, scanning each frame, and divvying up 11,000 hours of mission control and flight recordings to match up to footage later.

“We copied all of the files and just put them on our phones. My producing partner had this knack for finding these little moments of humanity. Our office is between our two houses. It was just a short walk for both of us, so we’d listen on the way,” Miller recalled. “I’d show up having just listened to 15 minutes of static and he’d have this revelation captured from the onboard audio of this song, Mother Country, which we ended up editing into the film. He also found audio of a woman’s voice who was a backroom flight controller arguing with one of the front room controllers about the return trajectory. Researchers and historians are going to spend decades on just the audio.”

But even the rich texture of images and conversations lacked the palpable tension necessary to pull everything together and put the achievement of Apollo 11 in the proper context for audiences. Luckily, Miller already had someone in mind working side-by-side from the start.

“When we did the first test screening, we basically had footage of the astronauts suiting up leading right up to the launch and the liftoff,” explained Matt Morton, who composed the entire score from his basement studio in Hilliard. “But what stuck with me most was the look, not of fear, but the sense of duty and the weight on their shoulders. I scored it with the same reverence and gravity, in that moment when they didn’t know, when none of us knew, if they were going to make it.”

Echoing the images and audio required rethinking the way the two had worked previously on several shorts, commercial projects, even acclaimed documentaries like Dinosaur 13 and The Last Steps, which chronicled NASA’s final mission to the Moon. Morton wanted something old, but original.

“When I told Todd I only wanted to use pre-1969 instruments, and most of the sound to come from an old Moog synthesizer, he needed some convincing,” chided Morton. “I try to stimulate discussion with all of my clients, offering suggestions and perspective from my take on the project. But Todd and I have this shorthand. I know how he feels about different styles of music down to the instruments. We can be honest.”

The result is an immersive experience that puts audiences of any age on the launch pad, in the lunar capsule, and on the Moon with unprecedented authenticity. The whole film feels almost voyeuristic with a direct cinema style that’s been all but abandoned in favor of contemporary cut rates and CGI. But perhaps most notable are the reaction shots throughout. If 2001: A Space Odyssey was Stanley Kubrick’s vision of mankind venturing into the unknown void, then this could be Steven Spielberg’s, amplified by a score as deceptively complex and unnerving as any science-fiction thriller.

The enormity of Apollo 11 begs for the biggest screen possible. Both Miller and Morton recalled fond memories of field trips to COSI as kids and the curiosity it helped foster, which comes full circle with a special 47-minute museum cut now screening at COSI’s IMAX theater throughout the summer—just the right length for aspiring astronauts and aerospace engineers. The full 93-minute cut will air on CNN July 20 in honor of the 50th anniversary of the Moon landing. The score is available on CD and digital, but will have a special anniversary vinyl release as well.

Also worth noting, neither has any firsthand memory of the Moon landing. They’re barely old enough to remember the moonwalk. Apollo 11 is effectively a found footage documentary, one that could earn both Miller and Morton an Academy Award for a film shot entirely before either of them was born. Both were quick to quash such speculation, as sincere artists do, rewarded by the achievement, not the accolade. As with previous projects, inspiration remains a primary motivation.

“Just last week I was in Amsterdam for a premiere at the EYE Film Institute and learned they have 39,000 reels of film in their archive,” revealed Miller. “Future filmmakers should get out their flashlights. There’s a lot more footage waiting to be rediscovered.” ▩

Apollo 11 is back in theaters nationwide for limited IMAX engagements and is now available on Hulu.

July 1, 2019

Old School “Base Ball”

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

When Aaron Seddon first stepped up to the plate nearly a decade ago for the Ohio Village Muffins, he was actually stepping back in time. It wasn’t the same game he’d played in his youth. The rules and uniforms were unfamiliar, and pushing 30 as a walk-on wasn’t out of the ordinary. Even the spelling was different. This was 1860 vintage “base ball”.

No that’s not a typo—and no, the whole team didn’t forget their gloves either.

“When we’re talking to spectators about the differences in the game, they’re immediately concerned that we aren’t wearing gloves. That kind of protective gear didn’t enter the game until the 1870s,” explained Seddon, who starting playing vintage baseball well past the age most major league scouts tend to take notice. “We get a lot of our recruits from people who come to matches, who are intrigued by what we’re doing. We’re a close-knit group, even off the field. We’re a team, but we’re also a family.”

Long before the days of hot dogs and dugouts, what we now know as baseball was played in fields and empty lots from Cooperstown to Hoboken. Historians still dispute the exact origin story of the sport, but generally agree that despite scattered clubs before the Civil War, it was the inevitable intermingling of Union and Confederate troops that transformed the game into a national pastime.

But Columbus has its own history, perhaps mixed with a little folklore. Before the war, there were exactly zero baseball teams in the capital city, but shortly after its end, there were six. Players learned the sport from fellow soldiers from New York and New Jersey who brought bats and balls with them to pass the time between battles. Even the hand signals still used today for balls, strikes, “safe” and “out” arguably owe credit to the Ohio School for the Deaf in Clintonville, put into play a decade later to help their hearing-impaired athletes compete as equals.

Which brings us back to the matter of the Muffins. When the Ohio History Connection started their vintage baseball program in 1981, there was no prototype, only a rulebook. Recruiting most of that first team from their employees, they couldn’t help having some self-deprecating fun at their future expense. In the early days of baseball, your best players were referred to as the “first nine” followed by the “second nine”. Everyone left on the bench were called the “muffins”. A “muff” was period vernacular for an error, back before they were counted. The name was so inside baseball, it was perfect.

“The umpire’s role isn’t really to arbitrate the game. He’s there is settle disputes between the players they can’t adjudicate themselves,” Seddon noted. “And the pitcher’s role is to facilitate hitting. In modern baseball, your pitcher is your best defensive player, to prevent the ball from getting into play. The game we play is before it became professional. Everyone was an amateur back then.”

Fans will also notice a suspicious absence of balls and strikes. Newspapers from the era report some batters taking 50 or more pitches waiting for just the right one, because if a hit was caught on the first bounce, it still counted as an out.

“Probably the biggest difference between modern baseball and the game we play, is if an opponent makes a really good play, everyone cheers,” Seddon revealed. “We’re playing a competitive game, we’re obviously both out there to win the match. But there’s much more camaraderie between the teams.”

Speaking of the other team, the Ohio History Connection has more than one vintage baseball club. Much as the rise of men’s baseball inspired impromptu games among women well before Vassar College started the first formal women’s program in 1866, the Diamonds played their first match in 1994. Despite their parallel history and popularity, many of the early women’s vintage baseball teams have since consolidated or faded away, making matches more challenging.

Like the Muffins, the Diamonds also represent the game as it was played in 1860, which for women of the era was strictly recreational. The rules were the same, but even playing in back fields among themselves, the ladies often caused quite a social stir with their attire.

“We wear period accurate dresses made from patterns of actual garments considered either a camp dress or a work dress. Someone who first starts out may play in a long skirt and a white blouse,” explained Jackie Forquer, who has played for the Diamonds for more than two decades. “We don’t play as many games as the men, but the time commitment is also less. We play festivals and exhibitions games. Our players who come from a softball background see this as another way to share their love of the game.”

Both the Muffins and Diamonds are technically historical “interpreters” who interact with spectators much as players would have in 1860, sometimes to exacting detail. Forquer, who plays first base, is sometimes the first ambassador for vintage baseball folks may meet, either through school programs or at the beginning of a game, with Diamonds matches often preceding the Muffins. Never breaking character, she’ll politely ask the umpire to seek the approval of the audience before women roll up or remove their sleeves before play begins. Showing so much skin used to be scandalous.

Every organization has a historian, but vintage baseball happens to have an actual one. Dr. Jim Tootle came to the original version of the game later in life than most, but has still managed to outlast many of his peers. Having retired as assistant dean of the Colleges of the Arts and Sciences at Ohio State, his passion for preservation is as infectious as his laugh.

“I’ve gotten to play in four major league parks from coast to coast. I thought my playing days were winding down when I stumbled upon this, and I’ve probably played 600 to 700 vintage games,” Tootle recalled. “It’s been a wonderful experience to represent the Ohio History Connection on our home field at The Ohio Village, but also to travel the state and the country.”

When folks say someone “wrote the book” on a significant or obscure subject, it’s typically a metaphor. Tootle actually has written the book on vintage baseball—two in fact, not counting a third still used by prospective vintage baseball teams across the country trying to get their start.

“It’s like Civil War reenacting in a way because we give great attention to accuracy—interpreting the rules, our uniforms, and our equipment. And yet, the moment the first pitch is thrown, it’s not a reenactment anymore. It’s a real game, and we don’t know who is going to win,” Tootle chidded. “I have to laugh watching ESPN anytime there’s a barehanded catch. They go nuts and show it three or four times. I feel like saying, ‘Come out to a vintage baseball game, every catch is a barehanded catch. Gloves weren’t even invented yet.’” ▩

For a complete schedule of games, including the 2019 Ohio Cup Vintage Base Ball Festival featuring 30 teams from across the country, visit ohiohistory.org