Cleveland, city of light, city of magic

Ashtabula to Cleveland, Ohio Wednesday, May 5, 2021

This is from a satirical song Burn On by Randy Newman about the Cuyahoga River fire.

Cleveland is the Rodney Dangerfield of cities, it don’t get no respect. At least it didn’t. In the 60s it was epitome of urban unrest and decay, punctuated by that fire, when an oil slick/floating bunch of trash caught fire in 1969, helping to spawn the environmental movement. But since then, it has been slowly building back its reputation.

In the 1800s it was very cutting edge, a major steel town, and also a birthplace of the petroleum industry, since it was close to the first oil discovered in North America, in northwestern Pennsylvania. The richest man in our history, John D Rockefeller, got his start as a lowly clerk in Cleveland, but was shrewd enough to buy out some of the early oil ventures that failed, and was able to craft a monopoly. He and other captains of industry built Cleveland into a major cultural center, with a symphony, museums, and many grand old buildings that last to this day. Cleveland’s more recent renaissance has produced three major stadiums, the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame, and a revitalized waterfront. It is also the home of the world-renowned Cleveland Clinic, famous for pioneering cardiac surgery and procedures.

I almost took a job there. A partner at UVM, David Bronson, was recruited to be director of primary care at the Cleveland Clinic; he invited me to give grand rounds in 1992, and also offered me a job there. I had only been in Vermont for a few years, having already decided to eschew big-city medicine for the bucolic serenity of the Green Mountain State, so I was not ready to make that change. I often wonder, however, what might have happened if I had. Certainly, it would’ve been a good career move.

I had hoped to see David, but he is currently vacationing in the south. Instead I spent this Cinco de Mayo trying to get to Cleveland in time to see that Hall of Fame. It was still cold, damp, and windy, but thankfully it was more of a crosswind this time. I stopped only once for coffee at the picturesque town of Painesville, with a beautiful town square.

Passing by a number of dying steel mills brought to mind Springsteen’s haunting anthem Youngstown (https://youtu.be/4GaFUOQWi9A), and its most compelling line:

Them smokestacks reaching like the arms of God into a beautiful sky of soot and clay

It also mentions the Mesabi Iron Range, which I’ll be crossing in Minnesota. Bob Dylan was raised there.

I arrived at the Hall of Fame just after 3 o’clock, but by then had been advised by my buddies not to bother paying the hefty admission fee for just a quick visit. Instead, I took pictures of the striking building designed by I.M. Pei, and the playful displays in the lobby.

Wandering around the grounds yielded some cool views, but they wouldn’t let me close to the First Energy stadium, where the Cleveland Browns play. It was still cordoned off for activities relating to the NFL draft.

Later, though, I got a pretty good view of the stadium from my 18th floor hotel window, with the sunset over Lake Erie.

Distance 56.9 miles, 829 total. Time 6 hours with stops. Elevation gain 832 feet.