Cleveland Neighborhood Guidebook

by The Staff of Belt Magazine (Editor)

Overview

Explore Cleveland’s peculiar charms and local history with the least practical, most literary guide to the city.

This book is for those who want to understand what radiates away from Terminal Tower, and who understand that as lovely as Cleveland often is, it can sometimes be brutal, too. Authors draw on their own experiences to write about places no longer here, such as the Little Italy Historical Museum and League Park, as well as increasingly popular areas, such as North Collinwood and Asiatown. You will learn about Cleveland Heights’s natural history, Mount Pleasant back in the day, and Opportunity Corridors missed.

The contributors tell personal stories about starting a business in Ohio City, marketing Larchmere, first time home buying in Detroit Shoreway, self-loathing in South Euclid, troubling developments in Tremont, closed schools in Lee-Miles, and a vineyard in Hough. Bound together, they conjure a Cleveland as complex as its residents.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780996836760
Publisher:	Arcadia Publishing SC
Publication date:	05/01/2024
Series:	Belt Neighborhood Guidebooks
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	186
File size:	4 MB

About the Author

Anne Trubek is the founder and director of Belt Publishing and the founder of The Thinking Writer. She is the author of A Skeptic's Guide to Writers' Houses and the editor of The Cleveland Anthology. She lives in Cleveland, Ohio.

Read an Excerpt

Cleveland Neighborhood Guidebook

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By The Staff of Belt Magazine

Belt Publishing

Copyright © 2016 Belt Publishing
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-9968367-6-0

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CHAPTER 1

Losing Lakewood

SALLY ERRICO

* * *

I moved to Lakewood a few weeks after breaking up with my boyfriend and, not coincidentally, a few weeks after I started sleeping with Adam. My boyfriend and I had lived together on the east side — his native stomping ground — and as soon as the first winter hit, I became desperate to leave.

"You realize the snowbelt that goes all the way to Buffalo starts here, right? Like, specifically here. If we lived 20 minutes west, we'd have an entirely different climate."

"I like the east side. Now hand me the ice scraper."

There were other reasons for moving to Lakewood. It seemed to me a city in the best possible ways: progressive in both its politics and its society, a place where a proud Cleveland met a cultured liberalism. It was full of shops and restaurants and bars, and their interconnectedness — the sheer number of them and their proximity to one another, and to residential streets, and to Cleveland itself — was to me a characteristic of what urban life should be.

On a more practical level, Lakewood was also where Adam lived. I met him at a party in December, and when he mentioned that he and his girlfriend would be moving in together in May, I thought, I have six months to make you fall in love with me. I had known him for an hour. The intensity of my attraction was unlike anything I'd ever felt: He was tall, slim, and impeccably dressed, with curly brown hair and eyes so dark they were almost black. As we got to know each other better over the next few months, I also discovered he was sometimes vain. He could be jealous and resentful. But his flaws made him more appealing, which is why I maintain that my attraction wasn't just physical. I was in love.

The situation was complicated by 1) my boyfriend and 2) Adam's girlfriend. For a while, I imagined that Adam and I could just ... hang out together forever, complacent in our respective relationships, no rocking of boats. We had mutual friends, so there was always an excuse to see each other; we enjoyed the same things, so if we happened to find ourselves at, say, the same concert, hey, what a coincidence! But then one night, after we attended a wine-fueled fundraiser for the Cleveland Public Theatre, he kissed me. I was living in Lakewood by the end of the month.

I found my apartment by driving around and looking for "For Rent" signs in the windows of buildings (it was a kinder, simpler, realty app–free time: 2004). I checked out houses, duplexes, and apartment complexes, some near the lake and others closer to the airport, some beautiful and others one leak away from being condemned. When I called the number in the window of a building on the corner of Detroit and Riverside, the owner said he could show me a one-bedroom immediately — he was there now, renovating it. For $525 a month, it was mine.

The neighborhood was everything. I could go to the dry cleaner and the liquor store on the same walk. Sushi, falafel, and pizza were just a short drive up Detroit. And if funds were low, so were prices at Marc's, that T.J. Maxx of food, with its dented tuna cans and inexplicably large selection of peanut butter. Stores and restaurants flew rainbow flags year-round, and the one business I knew of that was openly homophobic — a taxidermy shop that appeared closed even when it was open and had a bumper sticker reading "God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve" in the window — was also openly mocked. I could go for a morning run in the Metropark, and in the evening, have a glass of wine at Three Birds. By comparison, my hometown near Cedar Point had not one single store at which to buy a CD, and there was opposition to plans for a Taco Bell because the locals believed it would attract gangs. Lakewood was a Shangri-La.

And just off of Detroit: Adam's apartment, the seat of both my joy and misery. He hadn't broken up with his girlfriend yet, but soon, I just knew, it would happen. They'd never have the chance to move in together. In the meantime, my plan was simple: continue sleeping with him and wait for him to give in to our obvious chemistry. But I'd forget this on the days when I'd drive past his street on my way home from work and see his girlfriend's car parked in front of his building. Her carrrrrrrr! I would be in agony as I pulled into my parking lot, imagining them in a Kama Sutra's worth of positions — or worse, doing something like making dinner, throwing little puffs of flour at each other and laughing, a scene straight out of some stupid rom-com. I'd drag myself up the stairs of my building, collapsing in tears on the slipcovered couch that had been a hand-me-down from my grandparents.

This, as it turns out, is not a way to build self-esteem. I recognized that I'd become the kind of woman I'd always pitied, the "crazy" one waiting for a kind word or sign of affection from an emotionally (and otherwise) unavailable man. But I didn't know how to break out. I'd decide that I was done, that I was too disgusted with myself to continue, and I'd go on dates with other guys. But then Adam would call, and the adrenaline would flood me.

Complete escape seemed the only option. For years, I'd entertained the fantasy of moving to New York City — a giant Lakewood! — and I began to plan in earnest. It was both a distraction and a bluff: I was sure Adam would stop me. Our relationship wasn't just sex, after all. We'd been friends before we'd been anything, and we'd spent nights talking about our lives, our ambitions, our secrets. That had to count for something.

I packed my apartment slowly, waiting. He never came. I got in the van and left Lakewood, this time by taking Detroit across the bridge and into Rocky River. I didn't want to drive down the streets we'd walked, or pass the diner where we'd sat across from each other in squeaky vinyl booths, talking over coffee until 4 a.m. More than anything, I didn't want to see his building. I felt at the time that he had taken Lakewood from me, but now, of course, I understand that I was the thief, and a cowardly one at that. I was leaving the only apartment I'd ever have that would be just mine: no roommates, no boyfriends. I'd been too obsessed with my heartbreak to allow myself the pleasure of being a single 24-year-old woman in a city that I loved.

I later learned that Adam's girlfriend had been cheating on him all along. They had broken up right around the time I'd settled in New York, where every street had been full of things I wanted to tell him about and every face was that of a stranger.

CHAPTER 2

>>>BELT EDITORS' PICKS<<<

Best Deservedly Spendy Restaurants

* * *

The restaurants that rightly receive the most national acclaim are Greenhouse Tavern (or anyplace by chef Jonathon Sawyer), Dante (or anyplace by chef Dante Bocuzzi) and Lola (or anyplace by chef Michael Symon throughout the area).

Flying Fig Karen Small was an early adopter of both locally sourced food and Ohio City, and the restaurant remains consistently superb.

L'Alabatros is brasserie French at its best — go after the orchestra, and be sure to order the French Toast.

Pier W in Lakewood is the epitome of both midcentury décor and lakeside dining. Their elaborate brunch may be the best place in town to observe a wide swath of Cleveland's demographic celebrating.

EDWINS is not just an inventive, heroic experiment in offering formerly incarcerated adults a trade and a job — it is also the spot for classic French haute cuisine in town, especially when the patio is open.

fire food & drink With EDWINS on Shaker Square is Douglas Katz' flagship restaurant. It is always buzzing with locals from Shaker Heights and points east, and the superb pizza appetizers are big enough for an entrée.

Still hungry? Here are five great independently owned upscale restaurants to try: Toast, Spice, Alley Cat, Felice and Fat Cats.

CHAPTER 3

We Are Good in Glenville:

A Visit to the Honey Do Club Neighborhood Bar

KATHRINE MORRIS

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Cleveland is a city of neighborhoods. Each tells a story with its own unique culture and history, the restaurant you have to eat at, and of course, a neighborhood bar. Being a Glenville resident my entire life, one would assume that I have ventured to my own neighborhood bar before 2015. On a Friday night when most of the city is leaving their distinctive neighborhoods to venture to the melting pot of fun in downtown Cleveland, we found ourselves on the northern side of Glenville's boundaries at a small, quirky, corner bar on St. Clair Ave. called "The Honey Do Club."

Walking into the bar, we were warmly greeted by an assortment of neighborly drinkers who welcomed new faces into their home. This is truly home for the regulars. Everyone who crossed the threshold got a loud, boisterous; "HEY Y'ALL," accompanied by an open-armed hug from Sonny, the barmaid, who has been a staple at The Honey Do. "Sonny knows everyone who comes in here and she'll get you right on the drinks."

First impressions: this is not your TownHall or Barley House and it doesn't have to be. The storefront bar which sits under an apartment suite on the corner of St. Clair and Vashti Ave is a dive bar in every sense and has the character of a neighborhood bar your average downtown Cleveland bar lacks, one being that it is extremely local. It serves the people who live within walking distance and those people know each other well enough to continue previous conversations from the night before and reminisce on the old times in Glenville. There are no fancy named cocktails and the bar prices are reasonable enough for all the regulars to be able to enjoy themselves without checking their bank statements at the end of the night.

Staff: the staff was overwhelmingly friendly. The owner, Maria Roscoe, has owned the establishment for over 15 years and Sonny, the friendly barmaid, has worked at the bar over a decade. The Honey Do Club is Glenville's "Cheers," as one person put it. Everyone knows who you are, what your favorite drink is and of course, your name. Sonny enthusiastically poured us double shots of top shelf liquor as she told us stories of her family's heritage, her experiences at the Honey Do Club over the many years she's worked there and her love for everyone who comes in the bar, even going on to say "... we're all family here, that's why people keep coming here."

People: everyone is different. A family of different personalities intertwined in one place at the same time. It's a little overwhelming at first, until you realize that the yelling man across the bar looks like your uncle and he's yelling at your cousin and it all makes sense. The bar is full of colorful personalities that blend together organically. At its most crowded, the bar was packed from front to back with 100+ people laughing, joking, and having a good time. Even in the shotgun style bar, with little room to accommodate, dancing is so important the patrons somehow make it work. At one point an older man began doing splits down the bar, clutching his drink tightly while the crowd cheered him on.

There is definitely a lure to neighborhood bars. They encourage neighbors to be neighbors, they create and foster bonds and most of all, they keep culture strong. The Honey Do Club is an old place with a family feel and it is the locals in Glenville who keep the bar thriving and colorful. It's a local, laid-back, and no fuss type of place that allows you to feel embraced as soon as you walk in. Glenville loves its culture and its people. As a lifelong resident of Glenville I loved being in an environment where I was around my neighbors from down the street, drinking and sharing stories of Glenville's past and future. If you are looking for a true feeling of culture, without the top 40 pop and fancy named drinks, this might be the place for you. The past and future of Glenville, though, will continue to center around the cultural places like the Honey Do provides. Suffice it to say, we are good in Glenville.

CHAPTER 4

>>>BELT EDITORS' PICKS<<<

Best Neighborhood Bars

* * *

What holds a neighborhood together better than a bar? Every good neighborhood has a place where neighbors can gather for a beer or three. Some comfort food can boost the value even more.

Millard Fillmore Presidential Library Tell people you are going there and if they don't know better, you'll seem intellectual, but better yet, you also get great beer options, live entertainment, and some basic food.

The Tavern Company Reasonably priced everything, killer burgers, a strong tap presence, and a family feel.

Old Angle Tavern In the heart of the W. 25th St. brewery scene, Old Angle sticks with what it does best: beer, soccer, food, and good service.

Muldoon's Saloon & Eatery A classic example of a neighborhood bar. Big space, robust food and drink menu, and a party room.

Platform Brewery Great local brews (and guest brews too) in a location light on a neighborhood focal point. Plenty of space, TVs, rotating food options, and outdoor patio.

Stone Mad Pub The building was originally a bar back in 1912, and Stone Mad embraces that past with modern twists. Good food and drink, bocce, and a spacious stone patio.

Gigi's On Fairmount Perhaps a bit more "upscale" than one would expect from a neighborhood bar, but there's nothing wrong with that. Great food, wine, cozy atmosphere.

Johnny Mango World Café & Bar The margaritas are enough to lure you in, but the food is worth mentioning as well — Mexican/Asian/Creole/etc. will keep your tastebuds in a state of happy confusion.

CHAPTER 5

Tremont:

A Product of Its Past, a Piece of Its Future

TARA VANTA

* * *

Originally known as Brooklyn Heights, before it was incorporated into Ohio City between 1836 and 1854, the neighborhood of Tremont was finally annexed by Cleveland in 1867 — and since then it's had almost as many names as it's had identities. After 1867, the development of Cleveland's first institution of higher learning shifted Tremont's name from Cleveland Heights to University Heights; its role as the location for two Union army camps during the Civil War converted this label to Lincoln Heights; and the 1910 establishment of Tremont Elementary resulted in today's handle, "Tremont."

Tremont's economic peaks and valleys have defined it since the Civil War, when the area found itself in a perfect position to meet the growing demand for wartime goods. Its central location was key to its success. The ability to import and export materials and products via the Cuyahoga River and the Erie Railroad gave Tremont a leg up on the competition; so did its steady influx of cheap, immigrant labor. The 1862 establishment of Camp Cleveland, Cleveland's largest and best-developed Civil War camp, was the final factor in this equation. Providing for the 15,230 military men that came through Camp Cleveland set Tremont's economic boom into full swing. By 1865, more than half of the iron ore extracted from Lake Superior came through Cleveland and 44 percent of all ships used on the Great Lakes were assembled locally.

Both Tremont's population and industry grew rapidly for a number of years. Local access to raw materials, transportation, and immigrant labor all converged to draw in major manufacturing companies like Lamson & Sessions electrical products. These companies facilitated even further growth and played a significant role in sustaining Tremont's economy after the war, even through World War I and the Great Depression, until World War II ushered in another area of industrially driven prominence.

Prior to 1830 Tremont was slow-growing, but the localization economy catalyzed a sustained period of growth: Irish men and women flooded the area in the 1860s to aid in the construction of the Ohio and Erie Canals; Poles flocked to Tremont in the late 1890s and constituted over 50 percent of U.S Steel Corporation's workforce by 1919; excess labor demand was eagerly met by Greek migrants in the early 1900s, and later, by surges of Ukrainians and Hispanics, who arrived in the 1950s and 60s.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Cleveland Neighborhood Guidebook by The Staff of Belt Magazine. Copyright © 2016 Belt Publishing. Excerpted by permission of Belt Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

INTRODUCTION,
Losing Lakewood Sally Errico,
BEST DESERVEDLY SPENDY RESTAURANTS,
We Are Good in Glenville: A Visit to the Honey Do Night Club Neighborhood Bar Kathrine Morris,
BEST NEIGHBORHOOD BARS,
Tremont: A Product of Its Past, a Piece of Its Future Tara Vanta,
BEST COFFEE SHOPS,
A Walk Through North Collinwood Benno Martens,
BEST PLACES FOR LIVE MUSIC ANNIE ZALESKI,
THE PARIS OF CLEVELAND Sam McNulty,
The West Side Market Illustration by David Wilson,
On The Cusp Harriett Logan,
BEST GALLERIES MICHAEL GILL,
Before It Was Hingetown Greggor Mattson,
HOMAGE TO THE VELVET TANGO ROOM,
The Little Italy Historical Museum Maryann De Julio,
BEST MUSEUMS,
In the Place of No Place Peet McCain,
BEST PLACES TO GO IF YOU ONLY HAVE ONE DAY,
Agony in the Garden: A Lapsed Catholic's Ex-Pat's Field Guide to Our Lady of Lourdes National Shrine and Grotto Don Pizarro,
BEST LOCALLY OWNED STORES,
Snippets of Lee-Harvard in the 70s Janice A. Lowe,
UNEXPECTEDLY GREAT REASONS TO LIVE IN CLEVELAND,
What's In a Name? Tom Orange,
BEST DIVE BARS,
League Park Vince Guerrieri,
The Dog Pound Illustration by David Wilson,
Slavic Village: A Guide Michael Broida,
BEST NEIGHBORHOOD RESTAURANTS,
The Isolation of The Flats Sandy Griffith,
BEST HIKES MATT STANSBERRY,
Neighborhood Lessons in Diversity Phyllis Benjamin,
BEST BOUTIQUES AND THRIFTING CLAIRE MCMILLAN,
Pretty Gritty: Living Off Lorain Avenue Lee Chilcote,
BEST PLACES TO LIVE,
Sweet Spot in the City Diane Millett,
HOMAGE TO ON THE RISE ARTISAN BREADS,
When Your Neighborhood Just Can't Get No Respect Sally Martin,
Observatory, Sea Monster Douglas Max Utter,
The Opposite of Cool George Mount,
BEST BREAKFAST,
Holton Avenue, Kinsman's Other Corridor for Opportunities Greggor Mattson,
Shiloh Baptist Church Illustration by David Wilson,
Excitement Sprouts in Hough Mansfield Frazier,
BEST PLACES TO BUY LOCALLY GROWN FOOD,
Chasing the Ghosts of Coventry Village Brad Masi,
The Rapid Illustration by David Wilson,
Shaker To Asiatown: The Bikepath Review Amy Hanauer,
Contributors,

Editorial Reviews

26 essays on places ranging from Little Italy to Parma, from Slavic Village to Cleveland Heights, from writers who have biked the paths, had a beer in the corner bars, attended the elementary schools or marched in neighborhood parades. Some left those neighborhoods behind, some are newly arrived in them, but all look at Cleveland with a perspective you'll never see in the New York Times or USA today.”  —Cleveland Plain Dealer

From the Publisher