Walking down a side street between the Salvation Army and Coffee Emporium, I read a few words on a worn page from Cincinnati's history. Surrounded by pockets and patches of modern asphalt was a framed portrait of brick from earlier days. In wonderful repair. Compared to the mishmash of webbed cracks defacing the newcomer, the brick seemed almost stately. Pausing and staring, with only a bit of self-consciousness, I looked through this unexpected window and saw horses as they clomped past warehouses and saloons, brothels and boarding houses. I moved on and wondered what else could we see and hear if we peeled back more of now.
Just Below the Surface is a collection of profiles that uncover the stories of people and places in the Queen City that lie just below the surface.
"Mindful of Motives" - A revealing discussion with our Police Chief, Colonel Eliot Isaac.
"A Foundation for Success" - Going beyond coffee grounds to Coffee Emporium's physical grounds.
"A Book Misjudged" - Ricardo Taylor proves both books and people are easy to misread.
"Mindful of Motives"
One turns green and the other has green blood. Both are abnormally powerful and atypically intelligent. The larger of the two smashes foes with mammoth fists, the appropriately proportioned one incapacitates with a well-placed pinch. The rational person would be wise not to make either one angry.
If you’re a Trekkie and/or Marvel fan, you’ve already solved the riddle: What do Spock and Hulk have in common? But even the most Trekked-out, Avenger nut may not know another link: they’re both favorites of Cincinnati’s relatively new Police Chief, Colonel Eliot Isaac.
What’s more interesting and unexpected, is just how much the two characters have in common with him. And it’s not the size of his fists (though large) or the color green. The links go beyond the physical to what lies behind the badge.
Born the third of four boys in Cleveland, Isaac moved to Cincinnati as a preteen. With all that testosterone flowing through the house, there was the typical roughhousing and wrestling. Adam 12 and S.W.AT. were favorite shows and from an early age, Isaac dreamed of becoming a police officer or soldier. His favorite Christmas gift was the Big Army Set (the creative guy in charge of naming toys must’ve been out sick that day). He was really excited when he got it and spent hours organizing the soldiers, tanks, trucks, and various battleground props.
But it was also during this time, with the adrenaline-driving S.W.A.T. theme song playing in the background, the other part of the Chief’s personality was also evolving and emerging. When asked during an informal chat in his “new” office how his mom would describe him as a boy, he considered before replying, “She would probably say I was the soft-hearted one of the bunch.” Isaac hasn't outgrown this trait either - it was a criticism of his leadership style as he rose through the ranks.
Since soft-hearted and 26-year veteran, former Criminal Investigation Commander (think homicides, rapes, assaults) don’t often roll off the tongue in the same sentence, some elaboration was required.
“I was always, in my peer group, my group of friends, more the protector, the conscience of the group.” He confirmed that he was never a fan of anyone being bullied. Liz, his mother, remembers how Eliot was especially protective of his younger brother Brett, now a 25-year veteran of the CPD himself. But she also added this, “Yes, he was soft-hearted. But you wouldn’t want to rile him.” Sounds like a fictional physicist who has major issues when too many buttons are pushed.
Though seemingly predestined to using his power to protect, it was during his teen years when the dream of a career in law enforcement took a hit. “I wavered. I had some negative experiences (with police) as a teen. Racially-based, that I really felt were unfair and discriminatory. It kind of made me waver.”
It wasn’t until he embarked on a soul-searching journey during his freshman year at Ohio State when he made the decision to become a Christian (the same year he met and fell in love with his future wife, Kim) that he realized he had to deal with his past hurts if he wanted to move forward into his future with hope. Forgive if not forget. In talking with a friend during that time, he shared that being a police officer was the only thing he’d really ever wanted to do.
“I had to let go of some stuff. And that dream ignited again.”
Isaac understands very clearly how his race and responsibilities as “top cop” inform his leadership in a critical way.
“There has definitely been a divide between the African American community and law enforcement. There’s no secret there. It’s something we continue to try and bridge. I experienced it myself. And we’re continuing to go through an evolution in law enforcement in this country. I feel that in my career, I’ve had the opportunity to see all that.”
He shares candidly that this post, though a privilege, was not one he was seeking or expecting. When the opportunity presented itself however, he didn't shirk the weight of the role. Isaac also happens to be the first member of the Sentinels, a Cincinnati police association comprised of African Americans, to be appointed Chief. Sentinel means “a soldier or guard whose job is to stand watch” and its Latin root, sentire, means “to feel, perceive by the senses”.
A sensitive guardian. Exactly the kind of leader a police force needs when it needs to use force.
Though it’s unfortunate he experienced what is tragically common for many if not most African American men, it is one of the main reasons he was endorsed, by politicians and peers, to take the lead in initiating critical reforms in a city that mirrors the nation. The strained relationship between police and certain communities and the trust which must be rebuilt is not theoretical or academic for him but real and personal. It’s his realness that gives others hope. His combination of being powerful and protective, emotional yet rational.
A soft-hearted Hulk. An emotionally accessible Spock.
Having just earned a master’s in Human Resource Development, Isaac is remembering what it means to have a bit of free time. In addition to time with his family, including two daughters who live in Cincinnati, he self-identifies as a “huge” Walking Dead fan.
The main lesson he could apply to his current role from a show where zombies are just a vehicle to explore post-apocalyptic, human resource development?
“You need to be mindful of people’s motivations… you need to be mindful of what the end game is.”
Motives do matter. Especially in a position that wields so much power. An ongoing joke among his brothers since being appointed goes back to that favorite childhood gift. He finally has his real-life, Big Army Set. Yeah, motives matter.
For someone who has been dealing with and responding to so much real-life sad and bad, it’s no surprise he enjoys the non-consequential exploits of fictional folks. He’s obviously not alone. Humans have long enjoyed creating legends, heroes, and weaving stories of their adventures for telling and retelling. It’s fun to imagine some of our fictional creations doing the same thing.
Picture Hulk, Spock, and Rick Grimes playing cards, shooting the breeze, going back and forth with the names and accomplishments of their favorite, human heroes. Sheriff Grimes floats Chief Isaac. Hulk nods than growls, “Needs better name.” Spock smiles confidently as he offers, “The Sentinel”.
"A Foundation for Success"
To become the oldest running café in Cincinnati, you've probably learned a few things about serving the freshest coffee. In an industry full of short stories, Tony Tausch and Eileen Schwab have penned a long and layered one.
So how have they kept Coffee Emporium brewing?
Like any endeavor that has stayed afloat in the choppy waters of retail, loads of hard work, perseverance, and market smarts have played their part. Community, craftsmanship, customer service - the stars they've charted by - are central as well. How they bring in and give back to the local community while partnering with family farms around the world is also key. And their straightforward business plan buzzes at the core: “Great tasting coffee is the foundation of our business.”
But what if part of their success goes deeper than the foundation of their business and into the foundation of the building where their dreams have been percolating since 2001? Even going beyond the physical space and tapping into the spirit of the place. For the building has itself, a long history of cultivating craftspeople, imparting wisdom, and forming community. Perhaps there's a ghostwriter, or architect, behind the scenes and between the walls, adding lines to not only the building's history but the city's as well.
Some 188 years ago, the Ohio Mechanics Institute began near Washington Park with the vision of inspiring and educating unskilled workers of the Queen City to become not just cogs in the growing, industrial machine but dynamic innovators and contributors. Traveling teachers delivered free lectures in the evenings to an intentionally diverse audience going beyond the traditional elite of the male persuasion with females and teens in attendance as well.
OMI also strove to provide practical training for the non-typical student, enabling injured servicemen returning from World War I, and creating accredited programs and degrees in engineering and technology. In doing so, they reached both the nameless masses and those who would go on to prominence like Thomas Edison. After studying in the public library (possibly the city’s first) during the 1860s, he returned to Cincinnati in 1883 to exhibit both his brilliance and that of electric lights.
In 1911, OMI constructed a new building at Walnut and Central Parkway. This new building, part of which is now occupied by Coffee Emporium, seemed imbued with even more energy and ingenuity as it went on to shelter and inspire a new generation of faculty, student, and philanthropist. Many seeds of different varieties were planted here that later went on to grow and produce fruit that even the most faithful of OMI’s ranks couldn’t have anticipated.
In-house music programs blossomed into public concerts while rooftops soirees offered citizens a perspective changing view of the city (and volunteer fireman a perch from which to spot fires in their infancy). And through the gift of a focused philanthropist, an auditorium/theater was constructed within the public school that OMI had started with the intent of opening it and its many performances to the public.
According to Mary Kreppel, a UC Professor emerita, and archivist, Cincinnati philanthropist Mary Emery had a passion that went beyond the physical confines of the theater which bore her name and housed the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra for over two decades.
“All the activities were part of a vibrant building in a vibrant community, offering education, art, and opportunities for social gatherings. There was a seamless connection between what went on in the building and what went on in the Over-the-Rhine neighborhood."
Sounds familiar.
And if all this lust for learning and community enrichment weren’t enough, between 1934 and 1957, the first floor was the home of the Natural History Museum taking the OMI’s tradition of exhibiting artifacts to an entirely new level.
Eventually, OMI merged with the University of Cincinnati in 1969, becoming the College of Applied Science before evolving into the present College of Engineering and Applied Science making OMI, through its progeny, the nation’s longest running mechanical institute.
Like most cities, Cincinnati struggled to move into its future with a durable unity based on real economic and racial parity. Despite being the place where Edison and others glowed with the light of goodwill and a shared purpose, darkness and division rose to contest for the minds and hearts.
After the disheartening riots of 2001, Tony and Eileen decided to take a chance on not only the struggling Over-the-Rhine neighborhood but renting space in this historic building which had been sitting empty. Waiting. Perhaps the building spoke to them, in a voice louder than those who thought they were nuts, calling out for them to once again gather together a curious and diverse crowd, sending them back out refreshed and ready to keep building.
Though the Emery Theater sits quietly at this present time and OMI has been folded into UC’s main campus and curriculum, and while the Museum of Natural History and Sciences pulls a different kind of car toward its current location at Union Terminal, the legacy of their missions lives on.
Coffee Emporium appears to be channeling the spirits of those who have gone before. Artists and engineers, students and professors, caseworkers and lawyers, sip and chew, listen and learn, mingling to a soundtrack of eclectic music. Like Tony and Eileen, and all of their entrepreneurial ancestors, they are fueled by both caffeine and community. Energized to go forth and write their city’s future history.
"A Book Misjudged"
He reached into his worn satchel and pulled out the book he was currently picking his way through: Behind the Disappearances: Argentina's Dirty War Against Human Rights and the United Nations. The author Iaian Guest, “documents a seven-year diplomatic war by one of the twentieth century's most brutal regimes”. The cover art, a simple yet haunting illustration, presumably rendering one of the war’s victims. Not exactly what you'd call a light, summer read.
Looking between the old book and its older reader, combination ball cap and professorial beard, I had a good handle on the softcover’s contents but felt less sure about my earlier assumptions of Ricardo Taylor.
So on June 13, 2016, we sat down for lunch at Coffee Emporium where our paths first intersected. I venture inside for their Walnut Green Tea while Rico stands outside offering the patrons and passersby Streetvibes, an alternative newspaper highlighting Cincinnati’s homelessness and social justice issues. I’d buy lunch and in return, he’d tell me his story. I was looking forward to both the chicken salad and the sating of my curiosity.
Rico looks every bit of his sixty years. Maybe a touch more. Considering a good chunk of his six decades is a mixture of being homeless, shelterless, and incarcerated, it makes sense he shares his satchel’s worn weariness.
Born in Cincinnati on July 4, 1956, Rico’s nomadic ways began soon thereafter with his first journey north to Cleveland at three years of age. His pregnant mother left her husband, his father, bringing Rico and two siblings to stay with her mother in Lorraine County. Tragically, his birth family’s dysfunction tagged along as well, eventually driving him to the daunting decision of leaving home at 14.
“Being cast into the role of a street person, I had to emulate street activities,” he acknowledged, filling in what those stereotypical street activities entailed. Shelter, in the form of his incarceration at the Fairfield School for Boys in Lancaster, soon followed. After three years, he was released with already more than his fair share of street smarts and a high school degree. The lack of distractions accelerated this educational milestone and planted a seed that would bloom and re-bloom as the years rolled on.
Between bites, he shared the difference in his mind between being homeless and shelterless.
“When I was at my mother’s house, I didn’t feel like I was home. Because of the violence and the other things that went on, you always had to be on guard, sometimes you had to fend for yourself. Well, it was uncomfortable. A house is not always a home. It can just be shelter.”
Rico’s homelessness began long before he actually left home.
He takes full responsibility for the choices that have, for better or worse, defined him. Then there's that nomadic, no-moss-on-this-stone thing. His gypsy philosophy has guided him geographically and relationally as well. He has four children, three daughters, and one son, three moms between them. He shows me a video on his phone. The pudgy granddaughter he has yet to meet, the firstborn of his eldest daughter who is a professor at Emory University. A smile shines through his less than full set of teeth, his joy more than eclipsing his dental deficiencies.
And though it took him nearly two decades, he eventually earned an associate's degree in Social Sciences after attending a handful of community colleges, as well as Ohio State University and Ohio University. He put his degree to work in 2010 working as AmeriCorps Civil Rights Outreach Coordinator and helped to found the Homeless Congress. It sought to give those without a voice as well as a home a place at the legislative table. And with only 30 or so credits to go, Rico plans to keep rolling through institutions of higher learning until he eventually earns a bachelor's.
As our time together wound down, we circled back to our mutual love for reading. We'd ran into each other the week before at the Cincinnati Public Library's book sale. I asked if he'd unearthed any treasures. He's partial to nonfiction and reads four to five at a time.
"Me and the authors, in most cases, have no relationship. I'm not interested who the author is, the title… It's about what's inside the book."
Indeed.