What do Liam Gallagher and Phil Collins have in common? They are both residents of Cleveland, Ohio, a former steel-making heavyweight on the southern shore of Lake Erie between New York and Chicago. Well, sort of residents. Both Oasis and Phil Collins were recently inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, which is based in the Midwest city. The Hall of Fame is not an abstract pantheon but an actual place. The building, designed by I.M. Pei, who designed the pyramid at the Louvre, is packed with musical treasure.
Musical Treasures and More
After studying Beyonce's hotpants and John Lennon's passport, I spent a happy hour watching some inductees in action. Neil Young performing 'Harvest Moon'? I could watch that all day. As good as the Hall of Fame was, it was not the best thing in Cleveland—not by a long chalk. I am just back from a few days in the city, and I confess I am a tiny bit smitten.
A City Overlooked
King Charles was also recently in the US. Fair enough His Highness was busy, but he might have spared a couple of hours for C-Town, or The Mistake on the Lake, as the city is occasionally—and preposterously—called. KCIII would have found much to admire and much that he recognised as well. Like a number of British cities that are routinely overlooked on account of their industrial past (Bradford, Sunderland, Preston etc), Cleveland makes a mockery of the tourism league tables, which have it down as more or less pointless.
In 2012, Cleveland had the dubious honour of occupying the top spot in Forbes' annual ranking of America's Most Miserable Cities. It secured the position thanks to its high unemployment, high taxes, lousy weather, and corruption by public officials. I cannot speak to much of this, but from a visitor's perspective, these days, the outlook is sunny. After a seven-hour flight from Dublin (from £400 return with Aer Lingus), I took the train downtown and checked in at the Drury Plaza, which serves free beer and tacos for ninety minutes each evening. Known as the 17.30 Kick Back, the custom is the hotel's answer to Italy's aperitivo. Wetherspoons take note.
Exploring the City
As I wandered around the city's high-rise core, a number of things stopped me in my tracks: the Superman statue on Lakeside Avenue (Clark Kent was conceived in Cleveland); the theatre district on Euclid Avenue, which is the biggest and most vibrant outside of New York; a delightful five-storey arcade connecting Superior and Euclid Avenues that was inspired by the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II in Milan.
Following a tip off, I entered Cordelia. The restaurant on East 4th Street has a reputation, and rightly so. After taking a seat at the bar, I savoured 10 fluid ounces of Midwest Hazy IPA while shooting the breeze with the bartender, Tom, who was at once supremely relaxed and impossibly charismatic, a combination I have been failing to pull off since the age of fourteen. I asked Tom what to eat. He said the carrot dip. I gave him a look. 'Trust me,' he said. 'It's really good.' He was wrong. It was as good as a dip can get.
Cultural Highlights
I moved on. I took a cab to University Circle, a small neighbourhood that packs a big cultural punch. I started in the Cleveland Museum of Art (free entry), and I might have finished there too, so taken was I with Picasso's Still Life with Biscuits and Van Gogh's A Pair of Lovers. Just across the street was The Natural History Museum, which recently underwent a £130 million, decade-long glow up. The museum did my head in—delightfully so. If, like mine, your grasp of science amounts to just about understanding how cutlery functions, the scale and significance of what is on show here might prove bewitching. More than once did I ask my guide for permission to just close my eyes and breathe for a minute. If you are in town, go. Do the free tour. Insist on Josh. If he is not at work, refuse to budge until he returns to the building.
Another venerable institution based in University Circle is the Severance Music Centre, home of The Cleveland Orchestra, which has been going for over a hundred years and is reckoned one of the finest in the country. On the bill this evening were Shubert and Shostakovich, who did not disappoint. I found the aesthetics of it all—the pulsing bows, the oscillating elbows, the wizardry of the Finnish conductor, the size of one chap's wind instrument—as impressive as the music.
Food and Drink Delights
Is it undignified to start the day with a pastrami and sauerkraut sandwich? Regardless, that is what I did, at a wonderful deli called Larder, which occupies an old fire station on the west side of the city. The Reuben was a dream. Boy, can you eat and drink well in this city—and without breaking the bank. A couple of years ago, I wrote a whole book extolling the virtues of visiting the UK's least fashionable cities (the paperback of Shitty Breaks is out now, people). I am minded to do a US sequel…
Larder sits just a few blocks away from West Side Market, an indoor collection of vendors offering everything from fresh pasta to macarons. One of the stalls—Pierogi Palace—was touting Polish dumplings stuffed with 'bacon cheeseburger'—evidence, were it required, that multiculturalism is working just fine.
Bookshops and Beaches
I strolled west along Lorain Avenue to Visible Voices Books. As well as shelves to browse, there is a mezzanine level for reading, a small theatre at the back for readings, and an elegant café. In my book, VVB is right up there with other destination bookshops like Shakespeare & Co in Paris, Livraria Lello in Porto, and the Waterstone's in Bradford.
After lunching at Astoria—a Greek joint with exceptional meatballs—I continued to Edgewater Beach, where a community of surfers can often be found riding 5ft waves in the middle of winter. After trundling along the beach, I headed up to the overlooking park, where I chanced on one of the so-called Cleveland Script signs that are dotted around town. Attempting to get a selfie with said sign, I somehow managed to tweak a neck muscle. So it goes.
Cocktails and a Warm Welcome
To aid my recovery, I headed to Tremont, a neighbourhood blessed with two of the best cocktail joints I have ever set foot in. The vibe at Cloak & Dagger is posh goth meets elevated emo, while the Literary Tavern has got a rarefied dive bar thing going on. At the latter, I had a cocktail designed to recreate the sensation of eating sushi. Sushi in a glass. Who would have thunk it. Three sheets to the wind, I got a cab back to the hotel.
'You been to Cleveland before?' asked the driver. 'Nope, first time.' 'Then welcome home, brother.' I smiled at that. There was something very Cleveland about it. Oddly and surprisingly lovely. It was a nice sentiment to finish on.
