Cincinnati emerged from a tumultuous 19th century as a growing metropolis committed to city planning. The most ambitious plan of the early twentieth century, the Cincinnati Subway, was doomed to failure. Construction began in 1920 and ended in 1927 when the money had run out. Today, two miles of empty subway tunnels still lie beneath Cincinnati, waiting to be used. The Cincinnati Subway tells the whole story, from the turbulent times in the 1880s to the ultimate failure of "Cincinnati's White Elephant." Along the way, the reader will learn about what was happening in Cincinnati during the growth of the subway-from the Courthouse Riots in 1884 to life in the Queen City during World War II.

Bicycling Through Paradise is a collection of twenty historically themed cycling tours broken into 10-mile segments centered around Cincinnati, Ohio. Written by two longtime cyclists--one a professor of history and one an architect--the book is an affectionate, intimate, and provocative reading of the local landscape and history from the perspectives of cycling and Cincinnati enthusiasts. Tours, navigated by Smythe and Hanlon, take cyclers past Native American sites, early settler homesteads, and locations made know through recent Ohio change-makers as navigated by the authors. With extensive details on routes and sites along the way, tours between 20 and 80 miles in length are designed for all levels of cyclists, and even the armchair explorer. Riders and readers will visit towns called Edenton, Loveland, Felicity, and Utopia. Along the journey, they'll encounter an abandoned Shaker village near the Whitewater Forest and a tiny dairy house called "Harmony Hill," the oldest standing structure in Clermont County, Ohio. They'll also take in the view from the top of a 2,000-year-old, 75-foot tall, conical Indian mound at Miamisburg. Riders can follow the Little Miami Scenic Trail and take a detour to a castle on the banks of the Little Miami River. Other sights include a full-scale replica of the tomb of Jesus in Northern Kentucky and the small pleasures of public parks, covered bridges, tree-lined streets, riverside travel, and one-room schoolhouses. And if all this isn't exactly Paradise, well, it's pretty close.

Hidden down alleyways, on street corners or on the bricks above the cityscape, Cincinnati's fading advertisements hide in plain sight. These ghost signs still tout their wares and services, remnants of a bygone era. Each sign has a vivid story behind it unique to its era, product and craftsmanship. "Wall dogs" like sign artist Gus Holthaus left their marks on the city. A sign for the Beehive, the club and restaurant at the top of the arena, reminds residents of Cincinnati's pro hockey team, the Stingers. Not many can remember "the Other Place," but a hand-painted advertisement still adorns a city wall. Join author and photographer Ronny Salerno for a tour of Cincinnati's vanishing signs and their intriguing history.

What of those ghostly catacombs that lie dormant below city streets? Those subway tunnels, never finished, never filled with the screeches of trains and the busy commotion of commuters. Just there. Dead. You've heard of the subway's demise. The tunnels were too narrow. The city was too broke. A grand miscalculation. Well, most of what you've heard is, sorry to say, untrue. The popular story of the subway's demise is myth-laden and as incomplete as the original plan. The full story, long buried in mounds of public records dispersed in libraries, is now revealed. Local author Jacob R. Mecklenborg emerges from those dusty tomes with a fresh, thought-provoking, full examination of the subway's demise and what its future might hold.