“Up, up, and away!” Before Superman became a global icon, he was a glimmer of hope imagined in a Glenville bedroom.
“Superman is one of Cleveland’s greatest exports,” says Valentino Zullo, assistant professor of English at Ursuline College and co-director of the Rustbelt Humanities Lab. “We’re not exporting steel; we’re exporting culture. The superhero genre was created here.”
The colors of the hull can vary — white, yellow, blue, turquoise — but just about anyone on Lake Erie knows the classic Lyman lines: a deep bow with lapstrake wood, a certain wave-busting flare, the captain’s easygoing air of pride.
Perhaps the fiercest is Tom Korokney, a.k.a. “Doc Lyman.” He purchased the tooling, jigs, fixtures, and archived records from then-defunct Lyman during bankruptcy and moved it all to Lexington in Richland County.
“I’ve used the tooling to duplicate parts through the years,” he says. “And the documentation — I’ve got all the original hull records.” Those records, Korokney says, are sought after by folks who desire historical papers, including certificates of authenticity, for their boats.
Like many during COVID, Lillian Cooper and her mother, Clarissa, searched and searched for activities to do at home — all the better if they came upon an art form they hadn’t tried before.
Terri Riddle of Loveland, a painter who works mostly in oils and acrylics, got interested in quilling after her husband gave her a Cricut machine, which can cut paper in custom, specialized ways. Riddle had a project in mind, but realized she needed to learn quilling to finish the parts that the Cricut couldn’t handle — so she taught herself.
She finds quilling both satisfying and relaxing. “It’s a very beginner-friendly craft,” she says. “You can do it while watching TV, and the designs can be simple or more complex.”
When we were young boys, my brother and I sometimes paddled a battered aluminum canoe on the Mohican River in north-central Ohio.
One of those streams is the Mohican, and today’s paddlers can view the Mohican River Water Trail at the ODNR website or download a brochure to find information about access points (including Greer Landing), picnic areas, and points of interest, as well as low-head dams and other hazards along the way.
Josh Bixler and his team once got a 3D printer to fly — while it was printing.
Aviation has been a lifelong passion for Bixler, who grew up in the Alliance area on a farm with a grass airstrip. His father was a general aviation pilot who taught him to fly (“I soloed in a single-engine Taylorcraft monoplane,” he says proudly). Bixler also learned the basic principles of aircraft design and construction while he and his father built numerous RC model airplanes.
They start showing up on West Lincoln Avenue in Delaware — folding chairs, blankets, and snacks in tow — around dinnertime on Fridays during the summer, setting up on both sides of the street near No.
“I was so frustrated that I couldn’t play,” he says. So he started calling up a few musician friends and they did some socially distanced sets in his backyard for a few neighbors who would “sit and be kind,” he says. Soon enough, the neighbors encouraged them to move the show to the front yard.
A dog’s sense of smell is thousands of times more sensitive than that of a human being. So-called cadaver dogs, for example (working dogs trained to detect human remains), can even locate a drowned victim whose body is still underwater.
“The first water-detection dog in the U.S. began working in Arkansas several years ago,” said Lohr. “That K-9 program proved so successful, and now there are a dozen or more such dogs scattered throughout the country.”
Among the many documents stored in the Archives Research Center at the Sandusky Library is a copy of a letter dated Oct. 7, 1899, and signed by Andrew Carnegie.
Carnegie, in fact, eventually became the wealthiest person in the world in his time, thanks to early successful investments in the railroad industry and building what eventually became U.S. Steel. And he followed through on his musing. Carnegie — and later his philanthropic foundation, the Carnegie Corporation of New York — gave away most of his fortune in his later years, spending much of it on free-to-the-people libraries.
In 1957, humorist James Thurber wrote to Columbus Dispatch writer and artist Bill Arter to discuss the future of the house where Thurber had been born.
Not a bad local legacy for a humor writer and cartoonist who frequently made his hometown and its inhabitants the butt of his jokes. In stories like “The Day the Dam Broke” and “University Days,” the good citizens of Columbus and its land grant college, Ohio State University, were often portrayed as naïve or foolish at best, bumpkins at worst. But overall, his portrayal was fond, says Leah Wharton, operations director at Thurber House.
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