Christmas at the Carew Tower Arcade
So many solutions to problems I don’t have; there’s a comforting familiarity to the Walgreen’s electronics section. A monochromatic rainbow featuring every charging cord you could imagine, flash drives of varying gigabytes as far as the eye can see, multiple AM/FM alarm clocks, disposable cameras, and bluetooth speakers all shoved onto the shelves behind what used to be the photo counter.
“Radio Shack”
That’s what my friend Rachel said.
And she’s right.
It reminds me of going to Radio Shack as a kid.
I haven’t owned a printer in well over a decade, so I’m probably never gonna need ink from here (which is good, because despite the sign advertising it, there’s none to be found), but I have grabbed a few rolls of 35mm film off these walls from time to time (yes, they still carry it). Like the vast selection of earbuds and headphones on display, it was overpriced compared to what I could find online, but at least I was able to just walk in, grab it, and go. All at my own convenience, just a few blocks from where I live.
Those types of visits also give me an excuse to visit with the folks who work here. Doesn’t matter who’s clocked in, from the pharmacy to the front registers—everyone’s always saying hello (first to the dog then to me), offering help, sharing a laugh, and sending us off with a genuine “good to see ya again.” That’s not the case at the nearby CVS, nor was it the case at the other Walgreens (and don’t get me started on the hellscape that is the Dollar General).
In the event that someone from the company’s headquarters comes across this post and is hoping to share it on LinkedIN, I want to be clear: I don’t think this situation is a Walgreens thing. My positive experiences have simply been due to the kindness of good people and not some dopey training video, hollow mission statement, or milquetoast benefits. I just got lucky to have great neighbors who exhibit a certain spirit. The kind that might’ve commonly been found “back in the day” at all of the local shops that once dotted all of our city’s main streets. A spirit we pine for in Hallmark movies while also ordering from Amazon and subscribing to Walmart+.
That’s not to say that the particular municipality within which I dwell is devoid of small businesses and proud proprietors. There’s certainly no shortage of hardworking, local individuals operating a plethora of great stores all over Cincinnati. I love popping into Wood’s Hardware, the Ohio Book Store, the liquor store by the bus terminal, and many other places. It’s just that, here in the heart of the Queen City, there’s no “general store” so to speak. In cities of this size, the days of the downtown department store are long gone and hell, the notion is barely hanging on even in suburban malls. What we do have, though, is a random Walgreens with weird hours that sells everything from local history books to reasonably-priced Coors Light. And just a few blocks away from that: yet another story of what once was.
Cincinnati’s iconic Carew Tower as seen in an aerial photograph from 2008.
The Carew Tower may only be Cincinnati’s second-tallest building, but it’s definitely the city’s most iconic. I’ve covered it a bit on this website before, but what I loved most about this building wasn’t just its status as a local icon, its Art-Deco design, its history, or even its incredible interior—no, my favorite part was the observation deck. The best place to take any visitors and a place I often returned to as a local. Not only did it offer a truly incredible view, it was unlike any similar attraction in the country—just a concrete roof, completely open-air in the heart of a city. And even when the cash-only admission rose in price, the telescopes remained at 25 (or 50?) cents.
Carew Tower observation deck in 2017.
That whole setup is probably what led to the observation deck’s downfall. That and Covid. The building had briefly announced coming “renovations” (supposedly more modern safety barriers), but the pandemic seemed to be the last straw with the tourist attraction having now been closed since late 2019. The entire building was kind of lackluster as an office set up by that time too, dated and struggling for tenants even before the global health crisis began.
The good news, though, is that the Carew Tower is being renovated. A transformation into a residential setup that will hopefully deliver a vibrancy on par with what’s been seen on surrounding blocks in recent years. For now (and the last few years), however, the Carew Tower remains dark at night and its shopping arcade, once a centerpiece of Cincinnati’s holiday traditions, is akin to a “dead mall.”
Christmastime in Cincinnati along 5th St. December 2024.
Phil and I decided to pay the place a visit on a Saturday evening a few weeks before Christmas. Just steps away from the crowds and traffic surrounding the city’s Fountain Square holiday festivities, we walked through the revolving door into an immediate silence. The security guard who’d normally be at the desk was absent, leaving behind only a sign that read: “The Carew Tower Observation Deck is CLOSED for necessary repairs. We sincerely apologize for your inconvenience.” Scratched out via multiple dry erase markers were the words: “and look forward to your return in a few weeks!”
On the first floor, we took in the scene. Not long ago, this had been a place where kids could meet Santa and families could get a group photo in front of the iconic Christmas tree at the center of this architectural landmark. Now, it was simply empty. Devoid of not just seasonal decorations, but foot traffic as well.
Above: The Carew Tower arcade decorated for the 2008 holidays.
Below: The Carew Tower arcade during the 2024 holidays.
The Carew Tower’s arcade isn’t a completely lifeless space, however. It’s still open to the public as it not only connects to parking garages and a high-end hotel, but still hosts a handful of retailers as well. It’s an odd juxtaposition, though. Wedding parties hurry past empty storefronts while employees on break from nearby restaurants use the place as a warm respite to make phone calls and hit vape pens.
Ground floor of the Carew Tower arcade.
Rookwood Tile found in the arcade’s details.
A nearby hallway gave off some of the strongest “dead mall” vibes we’d encounter. Once home to a multi-story T.J. Maxx, the only remaining business in this small wing was a nail salon closed for the day.
The lighted doors at center lead to the Mabley Place Garage. Before that structure was converted for parking, it was once a downtown mall known as Tower Place.
Most of the businesses listed here have been gone for some time.
Closed escalators in the north wing.
On the other side—behind dust covered, blocked off escalators—we came across a history exhibit that neither of us had ever really looked at despite having been here many times over the years.
Bearing a copyright credited to 1994, one placard compared the height of the Carew Tower with a Saturn Moon Rocket, the Eiffel Tower, the Chrysler Building, the Empire State Building, the former World Trade Center, and the Sears (now Willis) Tower.
With the escalators down, access to the upper floor was available only through the attached hotel. Packed with guests and ornately decorated for the season, the lobby of the Hilton Cincinnati Netherland Plaza was a stark contrast to the empty arcade it overlooked. An example of the building’s historic opulence, the nearby Orchids at Palm Court lounge had a deep line forming at the hostess stand.
Orchids at Palm Court, just steps away from the Carew Tower arcade, as seen in 2017. Photograph by Phil Armstrong.
Although they were all closed at six o’clock on a Saturday night—several longtime, local businesses such as the I Love Cincinnati Shop and Appointments were still operating on the second floor. “Back Rub Mary” was gone, though. In her former space: a sign indicating she’d moved to a street level storefront in a different building nearby.
The I Love Cincinnati Shop.
Framed poster of the “Big Red Machine” in the I Love Cincinnati Shop.
Appointments closed for the day.
Phil pointing out the kinds of knick-knacks for sale that reminded us of going into “Sharper Image-type” mall stores as kids.
This bear had no eyes.
Why?
The “dead mall vibes” were incredibly strong on the upper floor, something also noticed by the folks we ran into. Passing through from a parking garage to the holiday events outside, they simply introduced themselves by walking up and saying: “It’s a shame, isn’t it?”
Certain upper floor arcade storefronts feature all glass surroundings.
Lammi joined us as we ventured down to the basement. Just some friends hanging out at the mall on a Saturday night, except the lower floor was spared most of the “modern mall” aesthetic that had been added to the arcade over the years.
One of the numerous elevators.
Basement hallway detail.
Signage for local elevators.
Signage for express elevators with an interior light still barely hanging on.
The basement floor hallway.
The downstairs area features a private membership gym that also serves as the Hilton’s health center. The vibe feels more like that of the hallway scene in The Shining, though. Occasionally, the eerie silence is interrupted by people coming in and out of the nearby valet lobby that connects with the hotel’s garage.
The valet lobby of the Hilton Cincinnati Netherland Plaza.
A tv on the wall was rolling through college football scores before breaking to a headline about anticipated mass deportations. All while some guy driving a massive pickup truck in the nearby garage argued with the valet staff. The room featured some historical items from the hotel, but one of its walls was bare—the former location of an Amazon Locker.
Seen in a stairway.
Back upstairs, we walked through a history of Hathaway’s.
Hathaway’s Diner had opened inside the Carew Tower back in 1958. For years, it continued to operate in the same spot and was known as both a local institution and a quintessential diner that sported a classic appearance.
Portraits I made in Hathaway’s over the years for various assignments that show its classic interior.
LEFT: For City Beat in 2011.
RIGHT: For 91.7 WVXU in 2019.
After a location of the local Frisch’s Big Boy chain opened at the Carew Tower in 2018, Hathaway’s stated it would be closing permanently in 2019, but was able to negotiate a new lease. Once the Big Boy closed a few years later, Hathaway’s took over its space, a spot that was accessible from both the street and the arcade.
Hathaway’s second location within the Carew Tower which had also briefly been a Frisch’s Big Boy.
While Hathaway’s now had a more prominent location and no direct competitor in the building, their new space lacked the historic charm of the original. I always had mixed feelings about the place in both its incarnations, but it was good enough (and certainly better than the terrible Big Boy we had). Like many downtown businesses, though, the hours typically revolved around the work crowd. As a resident, the place wasn’t really convenient outside of breakfast or lunch on a weekday. Sadly, Hathaway’s would close permanently in 2021 citing a number of reasons for the closure on Facebook including food trucks, the city’s development efforts, and a lack of downtown workers after the pandemic.
While a few of Hathaway’s historic signs still hang within The Carew Tower, the original space was shuttered and had its glass windows covered in paper next to a logo for “Hathaway’s Pizzeria.” What was apparently intended as a conversion of the original, 1958 diner into a pizza parlor—this venture never got off the ground as evidenced by looking through a gap in the window:
Just like Venice.
This section of the arcade was also still home to a tailor. One that proudly advertised how it was the place where Bengals quarterback Joe Burrow got his suits, but also one that sat next to a sealed off section of the Cincinnati Skywalk.
Formerly a Skywalk connection to a Saks Fifth Avenue location, the nearby department store left downtown Cincinnati in 2022.
The tailor’s other neighbor: a former Radio Shack.
See? It all came back to Radio Shack.
Having seen all we’d come to see, we went back upstairs to exit through what little was left of the Skywalk.
Connecting hallway between the Carew Tower’s arcade and the Skywalk.
Crossing over Vine Street, we could hear the fireworks going off above the ice rink and crowds at Fountain Square.
The Skywalk often has the vibe of a 70s-era airport terminal.
Just outside the quiet Carew Tower arcade, the city carried on with Christmas:
I walked across the square as an emcee appeared on both the Jumbotron and the loud speakers to introduce a marriage proposal complete with Mariah Carey’s “All I want for Christmas.” Aiming my camera, a nearby stranger tapped me on the back and said: “You’re missing the moment!”
I ignored them and made my photograph:
A dark Carew Tower looming over the Fountain Square Christmas tree.
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