Independent retailers nationwide are celebrating "Small Business Saturday" this weekend and [...]
Filmmaker Ian Mantgani traveled from London to Cleveland in July to join Belt for the Republican National Convention. Here, just in time for Thanksgiving weekend, is the stunning result. Trump, Tamir, hope, despair, casual racism and potent rage: it's all here. Enjoy.
As the media searches the postelection rubble for answers, Belt [...]
As a native Clevelander, my loathing of Chicago sports began somewhere in Chicagoland while visiting a traitorous childhood friend who adopted the Bulls after moving there in the early 1990s. By then, Michael Jordan had sunk "The Shot" to eliminate the Cleveland Cavaliers from the 1989 playoffs.
Game Seven of the World Series is more myth than reality. I would estimate that my friends and I, in games of wiffleball or whatever in our parents’ backyards on Cleveland’s suburban west side, probably played in "Game Seven of the World Series" maybe fifty more times than the event has taken place in the history of Major League Baseball. (For the record, this year’s is just the thirty-seventh.)
Our baseball coverage may not have a deep bench, but what [...]
What’s in a name? In my neighborhood, confusion. Countless lifelong Greater Clevelanders have asked me, “So what part of town do you live in?” and I always begin my answer, “Well, the city calls it ‘Brooklyn Centre,’ but...”
When the All America Football Conference launched in 1945 it sought well-heeled owners to go head-to-head with the more established NFL. Mickey McBride, owner of Cleveland’s AAFC franchise, tabbed Paul Brown to be its head coach.
On March 4, 1908, flames tore through the Lake View School building in Collinwood, Ohio, trapping many of the roughly 350 people in it. 172 children, two teachers, and one rescuer died.
To visit Slavic Village, preferably wait until a bitterly cold evening in February, and in the dark and the snow, take the I-77 North exit for Pershing Avenue. Turn west, and as the road becomes a dead-end, ignore the sparseness of the streetlights and the horrifying industrial shapes rearing up from the barbed-wire fences on either side of you.
When I was twelve years old my paper route took me all through the area around Sixty-Ninth and Cedar in the heart of Cleveland's black neighborhood, where my younger brother Carl and I lived on the first floor of a rickety old house with our mom, Louise, and our grandmother, Fannie Stone.
by George Mount excerpted from The Cleveland Neighborhood Guidebook [...]