Paean to a Cleveland Landmark

We received this email from our good friend Dick Peery, who "broadcast it to the ether". It struck us as a love song to a lost era. Reproduced here with his permission, we wonder how it strikes you.

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The flames that destroyed the Lancer Steakhouse Sunday took more than a business from the community. They consumed a legacy of Cleveland's finest memories.

When the Lancer opened 49 years ago, its well-dressed patrons included physicians, lawyers, successful business owners and numbers bankers who prospered before the state encroached on their territory with the lottery. As Carl Stokes ran for mayor in the mid-1960s, the Lancer was where campaign workers swapped information, recharged their political batteries and planned new activities after an evening of volunteer work. It was considered the unofficial campaign headquarters. Stokes was elected by a hairsbreadth in 1967 as the nation's first black mayor of a major city and launched a political revolution that opened urban leadership to all citizens across the country. Arguably, it was the Lancer that put him over the top.

The political importance of the Lancer continued throughout the Stokes administration as the mayor opened the full range of positions in City Hall to black job seekers for the first time. Municipal workers, city council members and anyone wanting the back story on developments at City Hall knew they could get a good political conversation going at the Lancer. The upstairs conference room was the place of choice for strategy sessions.

As a reporter for the Call and Post while Stokes’s was mayor I found the Lancer invaluable. I started at the Plain Dealer in 1971 shortly before Stokes' announcement that he would not run for a third term. When the bombshell dropped on a Saturday, I was told to go out in the black community and get some reaction. I guess the editors assumed I would buttonhole people on the street. I made a beeline for the Lancer where I took a stool at the middle of the bar and sat there the entire afternoon taking notes. Virtually everyone I would have thought to ask for an opinion came by. Elected officials, heads of neighborhood organizations, activists who had been in the news one way or another, all flocked to the Lancer seeking understanding of the shocking news. When I turned in the story, several editors told me no other reporter would have known how to get such a comprehensive wrap up. I didn't tell them it wasn't me. It was the Lancer.

Of all the sessions I attended in the upstairs meeting room, the most unique was hosted by Ron Bey. He was a black Muslim protégé of Louis "Babe" Triscaro, a colorful Teamster official and Mafia figure. Bey owned businesses, headed some anti-drug programs and was a City Hall frequenter during the Stokes and Perk administrations, but his primary occupation was assumed to be as a hit man for the mob. He was a fixture in Little Italy when few African Americans dared to visit the area. He helped calm a community uproar after kids threw rocks at a school bus carrying black students on Murray Hill road in Little Italy. Bey arranged a press conference at the Lancer at which businessmen Al Micatrotto and Tony Hughes said they wanted to apologize on behalf of the Italian community. Micatrotto was especially eloquent as he emphasized the right of everyone to travel on any street without fear of attack. When the local Mafia unraveled years later, Micatrotto and Hughes were identified as longtime members.

Over the decades politics, economics and demographics changed and so did the Lancer. As the old customers faded and the next generation of professionals were welcomed in new hangouts downtown, the base for a center of black social and political activity also waned. But not completely. When there was a need to gather, old timers resurrected the past at the Lancer. For instance, whenever boxing promoter Don King came back to Cleveland for a political event or the funeral of former colleague, he bought out the house and everyone was welcome.

The most significant celebration in the Lancer s history occurred just a year ago. The local NAACP wanted to have a viewing party for the election of Barack Obama as president and there was just one logical place to go. International television broadcasts emanated from the large tent in the parking lot where euphoric voters rejoiced in Obama's incredible victory. Of all the passionate statements from gatherings throughout the country that I saw on television that night, the most profound was from the Lancer patron with long braids down his back who told the world, "Tomorrow I can cut my dreads."

Owner George Dixon says he will rebuild. He must. It will be great if his new restaurant brings back the enchantment of the original Lancer. In any case, a monument to that magic time is needed.

Dick Peery

Fisher gears up for stretch run

Lt. Governor Lee Fisher was in his best campaign mode on Saturday when he appeared at the new Lancer Restaurant, across the street from its original historic location. He had invited the Cuyahoga County Young Democrats to breakfast, though its membership was considerably outnumbered by the old political heads that comprised the majority of his audience. Fisher’s campaign struck some new tones in calling upon old friends to help carry him to victory in the next 30 days in the May 4 Democratic primary battle to win the Democratic Party nomination to run in November for the open seat to succeed the retiring George Voinovich.    

 

The stakes are high, as Fisher himself noted. Ohio is a pivotal state in national politics, and its current senatorial and gubernatorial races are likely to have significant effect upon the 2012 presidential playing field.    

 

Fisher is no stranger to tight races. In 1990 he won the race to become state Attorney General by 1,234 votes out of 3,360,162 cast, or only 0.037% of the total number of votes cast, the closest statewide election in Ohio history. Twenty years later, “Landslide Lee”, so dubbed as a result of that earlier race, certainly did not expect to be in a race that is polling about as tightly as that 1990 race. But huge advantages in fundraising and statewide political experience, together with the backing of the vast majority of the party’s establishment and apparatus, have not been sufficient to separate him from the tenacious and resourceful challenge of Jennifer Brunner, who abandoned a likely easy re-election campaign for the chance to win an open Senate seat.   

 

Fisher now seems reconciled to being in a tough battle, and he may be warming to it. He referred to his challenger by name at least twice, and with respect. He invoked President Obama’s name repeatedly, and cited the president’s election in 2008 as being a major factor in his desire to go to Washington and engage in the national struggle for economic justice. He also put his humble side on display as he repeatedly asked for his audience’s help.   

 

Fisher’s performance appeared to find resonance with his audience. Some in the black community have been piqued at Fisher’s reported aversion to citing the President by name, an apparent hangover from his fervent support of Hillary Clinton in 2008. And current Fisher campaign literature argues that “Washington is broken”, a perplexing position given that his party controls the White House and both houses of Congress. The candidate gave Obama credit for the historic health bill achievement, and noted that the president has been besieged by some on account of his race as well as his politics.   

 

Fisher reminded his breakfast guests that he is the only statewide candidate from northeast Ohio on the ballot this year. Democratic turnout in Cuyahoga County has always been critical to the party’s success statewide. This year the county's impact is likely to be no different, and moreover will probably determine whether Landslide Lee gets a chance to return to a November ballot.   

 

Fisher has put a new team in place for his stretch drive to the nomination. He brought on a new and savvy communications director in January, and is apparently finding some new African American counsel to go along with longtime political ally and adviser Arnold Pinkney. 

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Grits ain't Gravy [Miscellaneous Political Notes]

 

Terri Hamilton Brown has told friends that she is likely to throw her hat into the ring for county executive. Brown’s current gig is director of the Opportunity Corridor. She earned high marks as a manager in Cleveland’s community development department and as chief executive of the county’s public housing authority. With a resume that also includes stints as president of University Circle Inc and as a National City Bank vice president, she clearly possesses the executive depth to handle the job.  But doing a job and campaigning for it require different skill sets, something she is probably doing due diligence on as you read this.

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We only got to speak to her for two minutes, but District 10 county council candidate Sharon Cole was ready. She managed to tell us that she has two engineering degrees [Purdue and Case Western Reserve universities], and fell in love with public service while doing constituent service work for the late Congresswoman Stephanie Tubbs Jones. She currently is executive assistant to Cleveland councilman Eugene Miller. District 10 includes Cleveland Heights, East Cleveland, Cleveland Wards 10 & 11, and Bratenahl.

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Lost in the primary season has been the issue of a new county chair of the Cuyahoga Democratic Party. Interim chair Pat Britt has told supporters she doesn’t want the position permanently. Party rules call for the party’s central committee to meet between May 10 and May 19 to elect the new chair. Campaigns for the position have typically been conducted over the phone or person-to-person. Some party activists are hoping to initiate a more open process this year. More on this is likely to emerge soon. 

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