A Love Letter to Camp Washington
Loretta didn’t trust me.
“How do you know my name? I didn’t introduce myself to you,” she said while staring daggers down from her porch.
“Yeah, you did,” I replied, awkwardly chuckling. “We met earlier. You were telling me about the ghosts you’ve encountered.”
She took a skeptical drag from her cigarette, pausing just long enough to be dramatic, but not so long as to invite a cough.
“Nope. Never told you my name.”
Maybe she thought I was a “spirit.” One of those malevolent, dark forces she’d warned me about. The ones that’d allegedly been following her for quite some time.
“Ok, well, it was nice talking to you either way. Have a great night.”
Loretta’s dogs, who had been friendly puppies just a few hours earlier, now shared their owner’s steady and cold gaze. They stood with guarded posture, following my every move as I turned to walk away towards dinner.
“Be blessed,” I heard from behind, doubting the sincerity.
The waitress at “Camp” didn’t harbor any such trepidation towards me, though. I’m sure she was making a few assumptions based on the quantity of food I was ordering at that hour of the evening, but I don’t think she was thinking: “this dude’s a goddamned demon.”
It was late, but still a bit too early for the real demons, anyways—the kinds of folks you occasionally attract simply by being one of the few local diners that’s still open 24/7.
Or, rather, 24/6.
Ish.
This place does close early on Saturdays and stays closed through all of Sunday, which is why I’d come up here on a Friday. Well, that, and the wrestling. And the bar. And the friends. And the neighborhood.
Allow me to try and explain while enjoying Cincinnati-style chili—a Queen City delicacy and the first meal I’ve managed to eat today. In this particular instance: over a hot dog, some fries, and a burger topped with barbecue chips from the beloved, local brand.
The Crosley Building in 2009.
Back when I was first starting out in photography and abandoned buildings were my main focus, Cincinnati’s Camp Washington neighborhood was home to one of the city’s most interesting subjects. In addition to being visually striking, the Crosley Building was historically significant and held floors upon floors of curiosities. As various redevelopment plans came and went over the years, so did my occasional visits. Each one topped off with the best part: the view from the roof.
A view from the Crosley Building sometime in the “early aughts.”
It may not have been selected for any postcards, but it was captured by few and it told a story. No matter which direction one pointed the camera, they could really see Cincinnati. From its historical influences to its modern challenges. With slices from seemingly every facet of Midwestern-American life scattered about. And for years, that view was my primary connection to, and awareness of, Camp Washington. I mean, I did some fun projects with the wonderful American Sign Museum and I’d occasionally dine at the local staple of Camp Washington Chili, but that was about it.
Then Binski’s opened.
I lived a few neighborhoods over, but very quickly, Binski’s became a destination worth visiting no matter how long the bus or bike might take. The establishment was brand new, but the traditions it was enshrined with were longstanding. A quintessential Chicago neighborhood bar in the heart of Cincinnati. One that proudly served Malort and advertised Old Style, but also had Hudy on tap.
A damn fine cup of coffee honest bar.
Maybe even the best in the city. One enhanced by its location, surroundings, and community. Whenever I found myself heading away from an evening there, I felt the greater neighborhood pulling at me to wander the streets, explore the walls of buildings, listen to the trains from the yard nearby, and just exist within Camp Washington for a bit.
Never really got around to it, though.
Just as I’d ended up living above one of my favorite bars, it was fitting that Robert would come to live above Binski’s. My friend didn’t hail from the North Side of the Windy City, or even Chicago at all for that matter, but he could boast some bonafide Chicago roots. Which is a fact that allows me to forgive him when he roots for The Cubs. And I’ll give him this too: he’d been a fan of that team since he was a kid. His allegiance had been sworn well before the Cubs ownership took a shit on Sheffield Ave—that time when the franchise told their neighbors with the longstanding “rooftop bleachers” to “‘Go-Cubs-Go’ fuck yourself.”
Robert was a true believer in rooftop revelry, however. Which is how I found myself at his place overlooking the weekly, charitable “meat raffle” at Binski’s. This particular one featuring live entertainment in the form of professional wrestling. A scene that felt heartwarmingly reminiscent of an Alien Ant Farm music video.
Kiel, the proprietor of Binski’s.
I’d missed the first match due to my attempt to steal Loretta’s soul conversation with Loretta earlier, but I found myself perched next to my friends for the remainder of the spectacle. We watched from our terrace, lording over the meat raffle masses waving to friends as if we were Caesar at the coliseum as we enjoyed the show.
With the crowd, we all cheered: “Tim Lutz Sucks,” unaware of that particular gladiator’s backstory, but trusting the phrase found on the t-shirts of a few fans.
I thanked Robert, Elizabeth, and Mary for letting me crash their party and then found myself here, enjoying one of the city’s finest chili parlors. The plan is to go explore the neighborhood with my camera for a bit. Something I’ve been wanting to do for a while and something that seems appropriate for a midwestern, summer evening in the deep, humid heart of July.
Looks like it was once a Pizza Hut, but it wasn’t a Pizza Hut. I can’t remember at this exact moment what it really was, but trust me when I say that it wasn’t a Pizza Hut.
If this image (or my Surf Cincinnati stories from back in the day) speaks to you, you may enjoy my Spotify playlist called “Songs Heard at Midwestern Waterparks.”
Once you walk out the door from an evening at Binski’s, a meal at “Camp,” or a cheesesteak pickup from the place that was probably once a Hardee’s (maybe a Burger King), you’ll find yourself on Colerain Ave. south of Hopple. There’s a few local businesses on the block and even though they’re closed for the day, the lights and decor inside look warm and welcoming. They scream “Main Street, USA” in a genuine way, not a manufactured Disney way.
As I keep going, there’s a few folks sipping cold beer and working on a car as the Rt. 64 Metro bus comes barreling by. Some nearby buildings are being renovated, some are in need of renovation, and some are kept pristine—but all of them are interesting.
A few blocks further and I can start to see the church spire as the sounds of the neighborhood begin to shift. The crowds drawn to the former bank-branch-turned-nightclub start to fade as the hum of the interstate and the squealing, steel wheels of the train yard remain take over.
All along my walk, public art exists on equal footing with the factory-like surroundings—installations appearing in the yards of studios, windows of independent galleries, on the backs of street signs, and where plywood has replaced windows. This is a neighborhood that hasn’t been claimed by developers, one that sits in a pleasant, geographic purgatory between urban, suburban, and industrial. A place that’s seemed to have always had a strong sense of community. There’s salvage yards, barbed wire, and broken sidewalks, but there’s also families, gardens, and a playground.
It’s quite simply Camp Washington.
A place I know as a tourist and not a resident, but one I can infer a heartfelt appreciation for based solely on what little I’ve experienced during my visits here—each time grateful that it has welcomed me in.
Even if Loretta doesn’t trust me.
Since 2007, the content of this website (and its former life as Queen City Discovery) has been a huge labor of love.
If you’ve enjoyed stories like The Ghost Ship, abandoned amusement parks, the Cincinnati Subway, Fading Ads, or others over the years—might you consider showing some support for future projects?
