Say what you like about eclectic designs, the mid 19th century wasn't afraid to use anything from any source to satisfy their taste for elaborate and unusual buildings. Greek, Roman, and Gothic weren't enough for them. In the quest for something new and different, architects experimented with a variety of "Exotic Revival" styles. Cincinnati has one of the best examples of this trend, the Plum Street Temple.

The Temple, also known as the Isaac M. Wise Temple, is one of the best-preserved examples of the Moorish Revival. This style was developed in Germany and mixed elements from the Moorish buildings of Medieval Spain with Byzantine influences and a dash of Gothic to achieve an interesting mixture that stands out from the crowd.

In the 1860's the Congregation B'nai Yeshurun, led by Rabbi Isaac M. Wise, commissioned James Keyes Wilson, of Cincinnati to design a new synagogue. Keyes used the new Moorish Revival to give the Congregation something truly unique. Even now, it's almost literally unique. There's only one other surviving synagogue in this style. It's even been made a National Historic Landmark in recognition of its architectural importance and of the Congregation's role in the formation of Reform Judaism.

From the carved stone decoration through the minaret-like towers, to the perfectly preserved interior with its thirteen domes, the Wise Temple is one of Ohio's most interesting buildings. My favorite part is the treatment of the entrances. Look at those soaring stone arches set in brick walls. Then at the stonework over the doors. Never seen anything quite like it.

For more on this wonderful building and its history, see their website, at the link below. Be sure to click on "About" and check out the history of the congregation and of the Temple.

Life on this freighter seemed very laid-back when this picture was taken. It was moored right in Downtown Toledo, within a block of the Martin Luther King, Jr. Bridge.

When you see Fountain Square, in Cincinnati, you'd never guess it was once the site of a market for butchers. It was, though. That was before 1871. In that year, Henry Probasco was looking for a way to present the city with a memorial to his brother-in-law, Tyler Davidson. His solution was Fountain Square.

Probasco wasn't the sort of person who just pays the bills. He actively participated in selecting William Tinsley to design the square. He even traveled to the Royal Bavarian Foundry, in Munich, to commission the square's centerpiece, a massive bronze fountain. At the foundry he met Ferdinand von Miller and August von Kreling. The pair had collaborated on a design for a fountain called "The Genius of Water". The work was to be forty-three feet tall. The base would have reliefs of the many uses for water, surmounted by allegorical figures. The whole thing was to be topped with a nine-foot tall figure of a woman, the genius of water, with water pouring from her outstretched hands. We're talking nineteenth-century public sculpture at it's most characteristic. Probasco loved it, but he had a condition. Remember, he was a hands-on sort of patron of the arts. He insisted on the addition of figures of animals, one on each side, to be used as drinking fountains. The artists, lacking another client, acquiesced.

That's how Cincinnati lost it's butchers' market and gained one of its favorite landmarks, the Tyler Davidson Fountain. Since then, it's been moved around a bit and the square completely redesigned a couple times, but forty-three feet of bronze and granite exuberance remain as a memorial to Tyler Davidson and a symbol of Cincinnati.

Ohio is noted for having impressive, even beautiful, county courthouses. Some diehard architecture fans even make a project of visiting all of them. For groupies like these, the old Montgomery County Courthouse, in Dayton is a high point. It's not only one of Ohio's best courthouses, but one of its best buildings. Some say it's one of the best surviving examples of Greek Revival architecture in the USA.

Howard Daniels, of Cincinnati, designed the courthouse, in 1850. That, in itself, is unusual. Daniels was primarily a landscape architect. He had worked on Cincinnati's Spring Grove Cemetery and Cleveland's Woodlawn Cemetery. That's a different sort of designing, to be sure. He proved his dexterity with more than just tombstones. This building is a gem. Like most public buildings in the Greek Revival style, it resembles a Greek temple, from the front, at least. In the back, Daniels did something that may be unique. Each rear corner has a quarter-round porch with a single column. This not only cut the cost of another porch, it provided more interior space. Another odd feature was the roof. It was made of the same stone as the rest of the structure. This wasn't the best idea. It started leaking about ten years later and was covered with tin.

To support the weight of all that stone on the roof, Daniels made the interior more Roman than Greek. There are brick arches in the basement and attic, and vaulted ceilings in most of the rooms. There were innovations inside, as well. In the middle of the building is a domed rotunda with an unusual cantilevered staircase. A third of each step is embedded in the wall. Another dome, this one oval, crowns the two-story main courtroom. Remember, in 1850, there weren't any sound systems. Lawyers had to rely on pure lung power. I'll skip the jokes. You can have fun with that, yourself. They must have been grateful to the cemetery designer who turned his hand to a courthouse. He made a courtroom with perfect acoustics.

"In a bar in Toledo, across from the depot..." That's how the Kenny Rodgers song Lucille starts. Did a real "bar in Toledo" inspire it? Yes, and it's more than just a bar. How many bars look like a palace in Venice? If there's another one out there, I haven't heard of it.

The famous bar was built in 1898 and knew show business right from the start. It was originally called Burt's Theater. By the way, Burt was the owner's last name, not his first. Toledo architect George Mills was responsible for the design. Mills was becoming very successful and employed a lot of assistants. By 1898, he was ready to hand all the design work over to them and concentrate on bringing in clients. He must have been good at it, for his firm lasted another three decades and this was the last set of plans he did himself. In keeping with the show business theme, he went out with a bang. For inspiration, Mills used a 15th century Venetian palace called the Ca' d'Oro, the House of Gold. The top two floors feature Gothic stone arcades and the windows on each side once had balconies. There's even the winged lion of St. Mark, the symbol of Venice at the corner. He used to hold up the sign. Along the side of the building, the brickwork is a diamond pattern in two colors.

So, why did George Mills use a Venetian palace as a model for a theater in Toledo? Well, he may have been remembering the fact that a the Miami and Erie Canal had run right down the street next to it. Then again, maybe he just wanted his last plan to be a real winner. If that's the case, he succeeded.

Why do I say Ohio history repeats itself on Downtown Toledo's Ohio Building? It's simple. There's a terra cotta frieze over the second floor that shows the founding of Ohio. They probably shouldn't have limited themselves to the founding. There's no way it would stretch all the way across two walls, so it repeats the same scenes. The frieze is impressive enough, but it's far from all this twelve-story jewel-box has to offer.

The whole building is a riot of white terra cotta and patinaed metal. It has swags, and garlands, and cartouches galore. The main entrance is framed by a tall, wide arch that's covered with decorations. There's not a spare inch of space that's not in use. Above the arch, starting with the third floor, things are toned down a bit. Everything's comparatively plain until you get to the top floor. At that point, the ornament runs rampant again, with faces, and figures, and a row of acanthus leaves. It's enough to make your head spin.

The Ohio building was designed by the local firm of Mills, Rhines, Bellman, and Nordhoff, and built in 1906. It joined several nearby skyscrapers to make Toledo's first urban canyon of a street. You can see from the picture, that it's not quite that way now. The buildings across the street were torn down and replaced by a parking lot.

There's one other interesting thing about the Ohio Building. Back in 1907, it was used for something entirely new. That's when the USA's first continuous radio program was beamed from here to receivers down the street in the Nicholas Building. I can't say broadcast. There weren't enough radios out there at the time.

A lot of people who are concerned about Downtown Toledo are breathing a sigh of relief. Fifth Third Bank has announced that it will move its regional headquarters to One SeaGate, Toledo's tallest semi-vacant building.

One SeaGate was built in 1981, as the headquarters of glass producer Owens-Illinois. O-I, however, moved to a new campus in Perrysburg last year, leaving the 32-story skyscraper on the banks of the Maumee almost completely empty. It's not exactly the best public relations move to have the tallest building in town standing vacant.

I'll admit this is a case of "musical buildings", but it's a welcome announcement. Fifth Third currently occupies the old Nicholas Building on Madison, which was built in 1906.

Let's hope having One SeaGate occupied will get the ball rolling for the rest of Downtown Toledo.

Toledo Mayor Carty Finkbeiner has drawn widespread interest and support by announcing a search for a wi-fi service provider. The city will seek proposals from companies interested in providing city-wide service. If the idea works, Toledo would become the first major Ohio city to offer wireless internet access on a city-wide basis.

The program could be accomplished without cost to the taxpayers and would have some benefits that can't be denied. Not only would all city offices have free wireless internet, but police and firefighters would be able to access maps and criminal record information in their vehicles.

The service would also provide free access in certain public buildings and outdoor areas, such as city parks. Citizens could subscribe to the service at a nominal cost. Discounted service would be available to those with low incomes.

So far, the idea has been receiving widespread support. From what I can see, the whole idea seems to have taken the whole city by surprise. It sounds like a very good idea whose time has come. I'll tell you one thing. It's not every day you hear Fred LeFebvre, a morning host at News Talk WSPD and one of Mayor Finkbeiner's most outspoken critics, yell "good move, mayor! Wooh, hoo"!

I have to admit that "severe weather" warnings seem to be getting more common, along with warnings of "don't go out if you don't have to." I don't think it's because we have more bad weather than ever before. It's just because we hear about it a lot more in this day of instant information. If you'd like to see just how bad Ohio weather can get, and you don't scare easily, there's a good website Ohio History called Severe Weather in Ohio. It might make you a little less ready to run for the basement, thinking the latest storm isn't all that big a deal, or it might make you take the next plane out in terror. i wouldn't recommend that course, though. You can't run from Mother Nature.

The site was developed with information from a book called Thunder in the Heartland: A Chronicle of Outstanding Weather Events in Ohio, by Dr. Thomas Schmidlin and Jeanne Appelhaus Schmidlin. Brief accounts of twenty-five events are presented, with photographs and, in some cases, videos. Whoever designed the site did an excellent job. There's a weather glossary and a good page of links. If you go to Weather for You, you'll find out that, on any given day, there was a time when the weather was a lot worse. Maybe it will make shoveling the snow a little easier. Want a forecast? Just go to the National Weather Service. It's a lot faster than waiting for the news.

The site deals with tornadoes, floods, heat waves, and some mysterious eight-foot waves that hit Cleveland. Toledoans remember the day in, 1992, when twenty-eight tornadoes passed through Northwest Ohio, a record that I'm glad I missed. There is an event on the list that I remember well, even though I survived it in the next state over. January of 1977 is a month I'll never forget. The blisters on my hands from shoveling snow ten times a day for a whole month lasted till spring. I never want to see twenty-five below on a thermometer again! After that shock, it takes a lot to impress me.

Building a corporate headquarters is a statement of confidence in the future. Sometimes, though, the timing just isn't right. Like, well, 1930, for example. The bottom had dropped out of the stock market and times were about as bad as they could get. Not exactly a good time to finish a new skyscraper. Toledo's Ohio Savings and Trust Company found itself in that position. With a lot of fanfare, the company had hired the local architects at Mills, Rhines, Bellman, and Nordhoff to build what was then Toledo's tallest building, a limestone mountain 368 feet high.

So, what happens when you have to pay for a showplace skyscraper when the business climate is just about dead in the water? You try to hang on and hope for the best. They managed for a year and then went belly-up. When the economy improved, Owens-Illinois bought the place and used it as their headquarters from 1945 until 1981.

Ohio Savings and Trust had bad timing, but they succeeded in one goal. They left behind a corporate castle. The structure is a series of set-back sections rising to a cornice with a battlement effect, appropriate for a company that was fighting for its life. The lowest part is decorated with recessed arches, the largest framing the main entrance. That one soars upward to a carved eagle flanked by reliefs of the Roman god Mercury and an allegorical figure of "Commerce". Commerce looks a bit to healthy for the time, though. At several points, as the walls rise, waterspouts in the form of gargoyles extend several feet out from the surface. The tapering layers, restrained decoration, and overall simplicity of the design give Toledo its most noticeable example of the Art Deco Style. It's still one of the tallest buildings in the city and a welcome addition to the skyline.

My first choice for one of Ohio's natural wonders would have to be the Oak Openings region of Northwest Ohio. I'm not alone in that choice. The Nature Conservancy calls this distinctive ecosystem left by glacial Lake Warren, "one of America's last great places".

The oak openings are formed by a layer of sandy soil on a clay base. This blend of sand dunes, stands of trees, and grassland provides a home to a wide variety of wildflowers and native plants. It also shelters wildlife, such as the badger, the lark sparrow, and the Karner blue butterfly. The oak openings cover about 130 square miles of Lucas, Henry, and Fulton Counties, down from their original 300. Development is further shrinking this stretch of oak savanna and wet prairie habitats. Efforts are under way by a variety of public and governmental agencies, including the Green Ribbon Initiative, to lessen the impact of progress and preserve this globally significant resource.

Walking through any of the preserves or recreated oak openings habitats is like nothing I've ever seen. An area like that surrounding the Owens-Corning complex, in Toledo, gives some idea of what this part of Ohio must have been like when the first settlers arrived. That's where the picture was taken. You can imagine what it would be like to walk through those tall grasses without a ready-made path.

We're fortunate to have several parks and preserves to visit for a taste of this unique ecosystem and to learn about Northwest Ohio, as nature made it. The oak openings are one of the wonders, not only of Ohio, but of the United States.

No one seems really certain, but the Union Terminal, in Cincinnati may be the biggest half-dome in the world. Let's be realistic, here. Half-domes aren't all that common. When it's 138 feet high with a diameter of 180 feet, I'm not going to argue the point. Any way you look at it, it's big. It had to be big. When the Union Terminal was built, in 1933, there were 216 trains passing through each day.

A union terminal is a station built to be used by more than one railroad company. For almost a century, let's say from 1850 to 1940, railroads were a town's lifeline. Without a railroad passing through, a town could just waste away to nothing. Some did just that. A city, like Cincinnati, that had several rail lines passing through, would usually build a massive station as a show of civic pride. First impressions are important and the first sight a visitor would have on arriving in a town was usually the railroad station. In this one, Cincinnati still has something to be proud of.

Every now and then, you see a street sign that just sort of jumps out at you. This sign on an alley in Toledo's Vistula Historic District did just that. It's only a little less strange when you notice Eagle, Swan. Dove, and Crane in the same area. But Ostrich?

The other day I stumbled on a website offering a chance to vote for the New Seven Wonders of the World. I put my two cents worth in, of course, but I can't say I was all that impressed with the nominations. My first thought was of an Ohio landmark that's just as important and interesting as some of the ones offered.

One thing led to another and we've to start our list of the ( Drum roll, please! ) Seven Wonders of Ohio. In a state with so much to offer, this should be both interesting and easy.

My nomination, today, is a site of international importance that can hold its own with any world-class prehistoric site you can name. It's the Great Serpent Mound, in Adams County. It's hard to argue that a mound in the shape of a snake, almost a quarter mile long, isn't impressive. It's probably the biggest effigy mound and the biggest representation of a serpent in the world.

The Great Serpent Mound, now a state memorial, is believed to have been built by the Fort Ancient Culture, a Native America society that lived in parts of Ohio and Kentucky, between the years 1000 and 1650. Carbon dating tests on charcoal found at the site yielded a date of about AD 1070. The question of why the mound was built remains a mystery. There is no evidence of burials in the mound itself. The head, however, does appear to be aligned to the summer solstice sunrise. This offers the possibility of some astronomical significance.

Our list of the Seven Wonders of Ohio is now off and running. Let's see what my intrepid colleagues have to add.

Just look at that picture. Depressing, isn't it? That's one of Toledo's most interesting landmarks. Well, maybe I'd better say it was one of Toledo's most interesting landmarks. As you can see, it has problems.

The Nasby building was built in 1893. When it was new, it took the phrase "eclectic architecture" to new heights. I mean that both literally and figuratively. Its design was a mixture of Romanesque influences, like the arches and elaborate terra cotta decoration, with Spanish elements that made it resemble a wider version of the Giralda tower in Seville. It was also Toledo's first skyscraper. The base of nine stories was topped by a narrower four-story tower. There was a sort of cupola on top of that. It was impressive.