Just recently, a group of subscribers to WVXU’s City Government 101 newsletter were taken on a tour of Cincinnati City Hall led by a pair of docents.
It was organized by my friend and colleague, Becca Costello, our City Hall reporter, and host of the newsletter.
I don’t know what was said or shown by the docents as I wasn't there, but I am reasonably certain that the fact that the press room is tucked away in some upper-floor corner of City Hall was not covered.
One obvious question would have been why the press is so far removed from the center of the City Hall action — the ground floor offices of the city manager and mayor.
There is a simple answer.
It’s my fault.
Back in 1992, the mayor was Dwight Tillery, a Democrat and the first popularly elected Black mayor.
He shared that ground floor office space with then-city manager Jerry Newfarmer, with Jerry on the left side of the room and Tillery on the right.
Pretty much the way it still is to this day: Sheryl Long on one side, Mayor Aftab Pureval on the other.
But, in 1992, the press room was directly across the hall.
I was the Enquirer’s politics writer, and I shared the space with John Eckberg, then the Enquirer’s City Hall reporter, along with whatever other media types happened to be in City Hall on any given day.
There were a few desks where we could set up old Royal Typewriters — no laptop computers in those days; they were still just a gleam in the eye of Bill Gates.
There also was a comfy couch, where we could take catnaps on boring days.
I always kept the door to the press room open, so I could see who was coming in and out of the offices.
Most of the time, I didn’t know who the people coming to see the mayor or city manager were.
But there were many who were very recognizable — big business tycoons, politicians from the Ohio Statehouse and county government, and of course, the lobbyists who hung around City Hall like a plague of fruit flies.
If I saw someone of note going into the mayor’s office — a newsmaker of some sort — I would drop what I was doing and find the nearest pay phone (iPhones did not yet exist) and dictate a story to the rewrite desk of the Enquirer, which was then at 617 Vine Street.
Or I would hustle over to 617 Vine Street, take the elevator to the fourth-floor newsroom and bang it out on the Royal myself.
I don’t think Jerry Newfarmer cared one way or the other that I was watching. He was a good guy; and we had a good relationship.
Tillery, on the other hand, did not like being spied on one bit.
One day, Tillery said he was shutting down the press office across the hall and turning it into office space for his staff.
He needed them by his side, he said — even though their old offices were literally right around the corner.
Nonetheless, the press was unceremoniously booted out.
Some of the non-Enquirer media were furious with me because they blamed me for losing their cushy ground floor office.
And I did not care one whit. Still don’t.
In fact, if they want to name a future press room for me, I'd consider it an honor.
Read more:
