Known as a popular entertainment and leisure location that housed numerous shore clubs in the early to mid-1900s, the property at East 185th and Lake Shore Boulevard was sold and a fire subsequently destroyed any trace of the shore clubs’ existence in 1946. Despite there being no physical trace of the shore clubs, the clubs provided fantastic entertainment and meals to Clevelanders who sought out a day of leisure. The grounds had a private mansion that was built around 1900 and each of the various shore clubs redecorated and reshaped the mansion and its grounds over time.

The first shore club at this location was the Moonbeam Shore Club, which first opened to the public in May 1925. This shore club provided live entertainment, such as the musical stylings of Jack Mile’s Moonbeam Shore Club Orchestra and Al Waldon’s Serenaders. The shore club hired young women to sing and dance at the club. The Moonbeam Shore Club had its headquarters at Hotel Griswold (8844 Euclid Avenue); however, the Moonbeam Shore Club was not open for long and went up for sale in August 1926. By December 1926, The Lakeshore Gardens took over the location and offered great food and lively music that made patrons flock to the dance floor. But like the Moonbeam Shore Club, the Lakeshore Gardens were not open for very long.

On May 13, 1927, Marigold Gardens opened on East 185th and Lake Shore Boulevard. Night club owner Phil Seiznick operated Marigold Gardens and his business was described as a roadhouse or a nightclub that had live entertainment and a café. Since Seiznick was also the owner of Club Madrid (2422 Euclid Ave.), two orchestras, Club Madrid Night Owls and the Royal Hawaiians, played at Marigold Gardens in addition to cabaret acts. He also added an outdoor dance pavilion to the club grounds so that there was a dedicated dance space outside. In 1928, while Marigold Gardens was still in operation, another shore club called Shore Acres Gardens (also spelled Shore Acre Gardens) advertised its presence, suggesting that there was a second shore club located at E. 185th and Lake Shore. However, there was likely a connection between Marigold Gardens and Shore Acres Gardens because the latter had Phil Seiznick’s Club Madrid Night Owls play at their club. There are only a few advertisements for the Shore Acres Gardens in the summer of 1928, so it is likely that the Shore Acres Gardens had connections to Marigold Gardens and was not open very long. In contrast, Marigold Gardens continued operations until 1933.

In June 1933, Herman Pirchner purchased Marigold Gardens and renamed it the Alpine Shore Club. The new Alpine Shore Club had a German theme for its beer garden and boasted an Alpine yodeling orchestra and waiters wearing lederhosen. There were umbrella shielded tables on the porch and on the beach around the dance floor so that when visitors were not dancing, they could rest in the comfortable shade. Prior to owning Alpine Shore Club, Pirchner was entangled with the Mafia due to selling illegal beer during Prohibition. Although Pirchner got out of bootlegging alcohol, the Mafia continued to target his business interests, including the speakeasy on the second floor of the mansion on the property. The Mafia set off stink bombs in the speakeasy to draw customers out of the club without paying their bills. Therefore, Pirchner enlisted the help of famed safety director Eliot Ness and the Mafia stopped targeting the Alpine Shore Club. On November 28, 1935, Pirchner and Helen O’Brien opened the Alpine Village in Playhouse Square, which operated until 1961. Despite purchasing a second club location, Pirchner continued the Alpine Shore Club a couple more years with his co-owner Helen O’Brien.

By 1937, Helen O’Brien solely ran the Alpine Shore Club and renamed it Helen O’Brien’s Shore Club in the following year. She wanted to keep the Bavarian band but added Irish dancing to the list of entertainment at the club. Her shore club was a popular location for events, such as wedding anniversaries. O’Brien also had famous performers much like the clubs before hers, including Johnny Hayduk’s Caballeros, Dick O’Heren, Gypsy Martin Willesh, Ludwig Bosch, and Barbara Edwards. Fantastic full course meals were also served to club visitors. After Helen O’Brien’s Shore Club, there was one last entertainment venue at this location.

The last mention of Helen O’Brien’s Shore Club was in September 1938 and the first mention of Lake Shore Picnic Grounds was in August 1940. Therefore, there must have been a transition from Helen O’Brien’s Shore Club to Lake Shore Picnic Grounds during that two-year window. The Lake Shore Picnic Grounds offered racing, baseball, dancing, and swimming. Local residents could easily reach the Lake Shore Picnic Grounds by car or by public buses and enjoy a day of leisure activities. The picnic grounds’ accessibility made it a popular location not only for the general public, but also for local businesses and social clubs to reserve for outings. What set this shore club apart from previous ones was its policy of explicitly welcoming everyone regardless of race. A number of Black organizations used the grounds. For example, in 1942, the grounds hosted the annual picnic of the Tuxedo Club, an African American social club.

Despite the Lake Shore Picnic Grounds’ welcoming atmosphere, the Cleveland Catholic Diocese purchased the property in 1945 with the intent of turning the mansion and pavilion on the property that used to be a nightclub operated by Marigold Gardens and Alpine Shore Club into an extension of a nearby orphanage. However, the structures were beyond repair and a new orphanage location was procured. In June 1946, there was a large fire at East 185th and Lake Shore Boulevard that could be seen as far as 18 miles away. The fire ravaged the mansion and pavilion leaving only three brick chimneys in place and causing $30,000 in damage. The origin of the fire was never determined. With the fire, came an end to E. 185th and Lake Shore Boulevard’s history as an entertainment venue. Today, St. Joseph’s High School and HWR Christian Center Park occupies E. 185th and Lake Shore Boulevard where the shore clubs once offered recreation and entertainment near the shores of Lake Erie.

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The house at 4206 Franklin Boulevard is one of only a few Second Empire style houses on Franklin Boulevard. It has approximately 3,000 square feet of living area and is notable for its hexagonal mansard roof, decorative window hoods and wrap-around single-story covered front porch. The house was built in 1866 and, while the name of the contractor who actually built it is unknown, it may have been Ferdinand Dreier (Dryer), a German immigrant and house carpenter by trade. Dreier built a number of houses on or near Franklin Boulevard in the late 1860s, including a somewhat similar Second Empire style house almost directly across the street at 4211 Franklin.

According to National Register of Historic Places (NRHP) records of the Franklin Boulevard Historic District, the house at 4206 Franklin is named for Thomas Axworthy, a nineteenth century coal merchant, who purchased it in 1873. Its original owner was Atherton Curtis, a liquor dealer, whose family only lived in the house for a year or so before moving to Huron County, Ohio. The family then rented the house out to tenants for several years before selling it to Axworthy, who lived in the house with his wife Rebecca and their three daughters for more than a decade.

Thomas Axworthy was an interesting figure who left his mark on Cleveland city government, although not in the way you might think. An English immigrant, Axworthy became involved in Cleveland politics in the 1870s, serving in that decade as a city fire commissioner as well as president of the "West Side Democracy," a political club for Democrats living west of the Cuyahoga River. In 1883, while his star was still rising, Axworthy was considered to be a likely candidate for city mayor, but he ran instead for city treasurer and was elected in a close race. He was re-elected to the office in 1885 and again in 1887. By the time he was re-elected the second time, he had already sold the house at 4206 Franklin, moving, like many other Franklin Boulevard residents during this period, to the city's far west end. There, he built a grand house on Lake Avenue, not far from where political kingmaker Marcus Hanna, also a Franklin Boulevard resident, would build his Lake Avenue mansion just a few years later.

In October 1888, Thomas Axworthy's political star crashed and burned when the Cleveland Leader broke the news that he had fled the city after embezzling some $440,000 from the city treasury. (To appreciate the size of his embezzlement, that sum would be almost $13 million in 2022 dollars.) The papers, not only in Cleveland, but across the country, were abuzz for months with stories of Axworthy's whereabouts, the efforts made by Cleveland to recover the funds he had stolen, and the inevitable litigation that followed. The person who headed the effort to locate Axworthy was attorney Andrew Squire, who just two years later would co-found Squire, Sanders and Dempsey, for many years one of Cleveland's largest and most prestigious law firms. Squire also happened to be a former neighbor of Axworthy, having lived just three houses down the street from Axworthy during the years that the latter resided on Franklin. Squire doggedly searched for Axworthy, located him in London, and traveled all the way there to confront the disgraced treasurer who was living in England's capital under an assumed name. Squire successfully negotiated a settlement with Axworthy which required him to surrender all of the cash and bonds still in his possession, and agree to sell properties that he still owned back in the States--which included Colorado and Tennessee as well as Ohio--to cover much of the rest of what he had stolen. In the end, after bondsmen made up the difference, the City of Cleveland was fully reimbursed for its loss.

After the Axworthy family moved from the house at 4206 Franklin, it was next owned and occupied by the family of a district passenger agent for the Erie Railroad and after that by a treasurer of a trucking company. In 1919, the house was purchased by a Hungarian immigrant whose family lived in it for four years before selling it to Clement and Katherine Folkman in 1923. Clement, a German immigrant who worked in Cleveland as an auto body builder, and his wife Katherine, a Hungarian immigrant, were among a large number of German and Hungarian immigrants who settled on and around Franklin Boulevard in the second and third decades of the twentieth century. A number of them, like the Folkmans, purchased grand houses on Franklin that had once been occupied by the West Side's wealthiest families, and then converted them into multi-family dwellings or rooming houses. The Folkmans created three suites in the house at 4206 Franklin, living in one themselves and renting out the other two.

Clement and Katherine Folkman's son Clement, Jr., who was sixteen years old when his parents bought the house at 4206 Franklin, initially entered the workplace as an auto body builder like his father. In 1936, however, when he was 29 years old, he decided to become a different type of body builder. "Clem," as he was referred to by his family, was an adherent of the "physical culture" theories of Bernarr McFadden, an American entrepreneur who, in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, advocated physical fitness through weight lifting regimens. McFadden later published a series of popular magazines which may have caught young Clem's eyes. With his father's help, Clem built a gymnasium in the two-story carriage house that stood in the rear yard of their property. An avid weightlifter himself, Clem soon was training young men in the neighborhood at his Folkman's Athletic Club, which he later renamed Folkman's Physical Culture Studio. By October 17, 1938, when an article about his gym appeared in the Plain Dealer, he was training 50 young men, ages 20 to 30, who came to the gym three times a week, some with Olympic medal aspirations.

For decades, Folkman's Physical Culture Studio was a popular gym and rare commercial enterprise on historically residential Franklin Boulevard. The Folkman family at some point in time built another two-story building on the property, the first story of which served as a garage, and connected the new building to the old carriage house, which itself was extensively remodeled to accommodate Clem's growing business. The gym was located on the second floor of the remodeled carriage house, and a locker room, sauna, and massage room on the first. A large round clock was also installed on a pole in the front yard that for years reminded passers by on Franklin that it was "Time To Exercise." The gym was still thriving in 1967 when legendary Plain Dealer reporter Bill Hickey paid a visit to Folkman's gym. By this time, Clem's son Ronald, a Cleveland firefighter, was also working part-time at the gym as a masseuse. Bill Hickey referred to the two of them in an article that appeared in the Plain Dealer on March 30, 1967, as "the Squires of Franklin Boulevard." When Hickey reminded Clem that he had been exercising at the gym for years, Clem, according to the article, took one look at Hickey's body and responded, "Please don't tell anybody that. It will ruin me."

In 1986, the Folkman Physical Culture Studio had been operating at 4206 Franklin Boulevard for 50 years. Cleveland Plain Dealer reporter James Neff visited the property in August of that notable anniversary year to interview Clem Folkman. When he arrived, he found an elderly man who was gravely ill and reliving past glories, and a gymnasium that was literally falling apart and papered with city building code violation notices. Clem Folkman died just three months after this interview. After the death of Clem Folkman, one of his grandsons attempted to revive the business, but was unsuccessful. In 1991, the house at 4206 Franklin Boulevard was sold to a new owner, and one year after that the buildings on the rear of the property, which had housed Folkman's Physical Culture Studio for more than a half century, were unceremoniously torn down.

Today, no evidence remains of the Folkman Physical Culture Studio where Clem Folkman trained so many Clevelanders for so many years in the theories, methodologies and regimens of Bernarr McFadden. The Thomas Axworthy House, however, now nicely renovated as a three-family dwelling, and celebrating its 156th birthday in 2022, still stands at 4206 Franklin Boulevard.

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In the early 1940s, before he was even old enough to cross the street, young Joe Bachna gazed at Ceska Sin Sokol Hall from his father's photography studio at 4203 Clark Avenue. The three and one-half story building located down and across the street at 4314 Clark Avenue, loomed large, both in the immediate neighborhood and in his imagination. Joe dreamed about the day when he too, like his older brothers Alfred, Rudy and Gilbert, could go to the Hall and become a Sokol member, a gymnast.

At the time that Joe Bachna was growing up in this west side neighborhood of Cleveland which was then heavily populated by Czech, Slovak and German-Americans, Ceska Sin Sokol Hall had been home to a number of west side Sokol organizations for nearly 40 years. The Sokols ("Falcons"), a physical education and cultural program founded in Prague in 1862 to promote national solidarity and pride, was part of the culture that Czech immigrants brought with them to America in the second half of the nineteenth century. The first Sokol in America was organized in St. Louis in 1865, and by the 1870s Sokols were being founded among the growing Czech population living in Cleveland.

In the 1890s, Cleveland's west side Czech Sokols--Nova Vlas ("New Country") and Ceska-Zbavny ("Czech Entertainment")-- began purchasing property and building gyms in the Clark-Fulton area. In 1903, they and a number of lodges, clubs and other men's and women's ethnic organizations pooled their resources for the purpose of acquiring a single large hall for all of their activities. Forming a patronat ("board of managers"), they purchased Hungaria Hall in 1907. The hall, which had been built in 1890 by wealthy Hungarian-American magnate Theodore Kundtz, was renamed Ceska Sin Sokol Hall.

During the the years that followed the purchase, thousands of west side neighborhood boys and girls undertook gymnastic training at Ceska Sin Sokol Hall. They also imbibed the Sokol creed of developing strong minds and sound morals to go along with their strong bodies. They practiced, put on exhibitions, engaged in competitions, and, on special occasions, participated in slets (literally "rallies," but actually festivals), where hundreds and sometimes even thousands of Sokol members performed elaborately choreographed gymnastic routines. The Bachna family became involved in these and other Hall activities starting in the 1920s. Joseph Bachna, Sr. and his wife Angela, immigrants from what became Czechoslovakia, were members of a number of clubs and other organizations at the Hall, and their boys at early ages became members of the Slovak Gymnastic Union Sokol.

While all of the Bachna boys developed life-long relationships with Sokol organizations and with Ceska-Sin Sokol Hall, the relationship that one of them developed was to have an enormous impact on the development of college gymnastics in northeast Ohio. Rudy Bachna, whose competitive career was derailed at age 9 when he suffered a crippling injury to his left hand, founded the gymnastic program at Kent State University in 1959. It was the first such college program in northeast Ohio and it quickly became successful, serving as a model for college gymnastic programs across the country. Rudy trained a number of Pan-American and Olympic gymnasts, including Betty Jean Maycock, who won a gold medal at the 1960 Pan-American games and participated in the 1960 Olympics in Rome. In 1980, in recognition of his contributions to college gymnastics, Rudy Bachna was inducted into the Greater Cleveland Sports Hall of Fame. In 1993, two years after his retirement, he and his wife Janet, also a gymnastics coach, were inducted into the Kent State University Hall of Fame.

Today, Sokol gymnasts still train at Ceska Sin Sokol Hall and are still competitive, much like the Bachna boys were more than a half-century earlier. And while their numbers are smaller, these Sokol-trained gymnasts have continued over the years to contribute to northeast Ohio, sometimes in fields other than gymnastics. In 1969, when 17-year-old Peter Sikora, a west side Sokol member of Ceska Sin Sokol Hall, suffered a trampoline accident at St. Ignatius High School that left him a quadriplegic for life, his days as a gymnast were over. But in the Sokol tradition of developing a sound mind as well as a sound body, Peter went on to college and then to law school. He became a lawyer and then a Cuyahoga County Juvenile Court judge in 1989, where he served for 23 years until his death in 2012. Like Rudy Bachna, Judge Sikora too found a way to contribute to his community despite his physical limitations, just as his early gymnastic training at Ceska Sin Sokol Hall would have taught him to do.

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The city of Cleveland bought about 180 acres of land in 1894 to create Newburgh Park. In 1897, the park was renamed Garfield Park after former President James A. Garfield. The park, well known in Cleveland for its natural beauty and its mineral springs, provided many recreational opportunities. The park soon housed facilities for boating, swimming, and playing tennis or baseball. During the winter, visitors often went sledding and ice skating.

But starting in the 1960s, the park began to have problems due to the city's financial inability to maintain it. The once famous spring water became contaminated; the park pool was closed and allowed to deteriorate; and grass and weeds took over the tennis court. Crime in the park increased, though Garfield Heights repeatedly asked for an increased police presence. But the neglect continued, despite community concerns.

This neglect was prolonged until the 1980s, as the city of Cleveland and Garfield Heights fought over and over for solutions to the financial burden that the park had become. Owned by the city of Cleveland since the beginning, the park was now located within Garfield Heights boundaries, which were established later. The city proposed many solutions to the hindrance. It tried to sell the park to Garfield Heights, but the suburb could afford neither the price set by the city nor the cost of taking care of the park. By this time few people used the park, and many considered it an eyesore. Garfield Park had come a long way: once a treasured natural gem, it had become a dangerous eyesore. But the community's desire to keep the park never faded. The issue of the park had become so important to the community that those running for public office in Garfield Heights in the 1970s and 1980s made sure to address its future in their campaigns. Despite the attention, the problem dragged on. And the question remained: what to do with Garfield Park?

There was talk of leasing the park to the Cleveland Metroparks for many years, but it was not until the 1980s that talk turned into action. The Metroparks leased the park from the city of Cleveland in 1986 and began to restore it to its former glory. A nature center was built in 1987, which bustles with activity to this day. The park restored the lake, the marsh, some of the recreational facilities, and the trails, making Garfield Park once more a treasured place for city dwellers and suburbanites to find refuge in nature.

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Opened in 1927, Cumberland Pool began its life just as Cleveland Heights was maturing into a city. In 1925, residents approved $75,000 in bonds for the construction of the Cumberland park, pool, and bathhouse. World-renowned landscape architect and Cleveland Heights resident A.D. Taylor (who also worked on the design of Forest Hill Park) laid out the plan for Cumberland Park several years prior to the passing of the bond issue. Construction on the pool began in July 1926 and wrapped up in March of the following year. Designed by architect William Robert Purcell, the brick and limestone Cumberland Pool bathhouse wrapped a typical bathhouse layout in a colonial design.

Cumberland Pool opened with a water carnival featuring diving stunts and races that was deemed by one commentator to be "the biggest municipal event of 1927." Indeed, the annual water carnival became the pool's signature event. The following year's carnival, for instance, featured "keen competition among the best swimmers of Greater Cleveland" in over thirty different events and exhibitions. In the 1930s and 1940s, Cumberland Pool drew massive crowds to witness its popular diving competitions as well. In the off-season, the pool parking lot was turned into a community ice skating rink for many years. Cumberland Pool remains one of the places that defines Cleveland Heights today, as new generations of city residents enjoy its many pleasures.

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The construction of city-run public bathhouses in Cleveland began around the turn of the twentieth-century as municipal leaders became concerned about health and sanitation in the city’s teeming immigrant neighborhoods. Many of Cleveland’s poorest residents at this time did not have bathtubs in their residences. According to an 1899 survey, only one bathtub existed for every 600 Cleveland homes. Even those who did have tubs could not always afford to heat bath water and thus used their tubs for storage instead of bathing. Aside from improving sanitation, the proponents of public baths believed that public bathhouses would help teach middle-class American values to the city’s newly-arrived European immigrants. Personal cleanliness, they argued, would instill self-respect and improve moral character, making better American citizens out of immigrants.

The city opened its first bathhouse in 1904 at 1609 Orange Avenue and initially charged $.02 for a bath or shower. New bathhouses soon opened in other immigrant neighborhoods, including the Lincoln Park Baths in Tremont in 1921. Between 1904 and 1921, ten public bathhouses were opened and run by the City of Cleveland, the Lincoln Park facility being the last. Interestingly, the term “bathhouse” is a misnomer since few (and eventually, none) of the houses contained bathtubs. They did, however, have dozens of showers—generally separate stalls on the main floor for men and women, and open children’s shower rooms in the basement, separated by gender.

A 1920 Cleveland Foundation survey marveled at the fact that 482,000 baths and showers had been taken at the four bathhouses that had been built by 1918. The report rhetorically (and clumsily) asked, “May we not assume that these 482,000 baths were by all odds better baths, by reason of having been taken under public showers, than they would have been if taken under the multifariously improvised arrangements that have to be resorted to in the many homes, in the more congested districts, that lack bath tubs?”

However, Cleveland bathhouses (Lincoln Park included) provided more than bathing services. Many contained gymnasiums, swimming pools, playgrounds, meeting spaces, and community clinics. In this way, the bathhouses took on the role of community centers, where neighborhood residents could interact with one another and participate in enriching activities outside of their home, school or workplace.

Despite the fact that bathers paid a fee to use the baths, the bathhouses always cost the city money to operate. In 1918, for example, Cleveland’s four bathhouses took in $17,000 while expenditures came to around $56,000. And although bathhouses in Cleveland went through a period of expanded use and importance during the Great Depression, actual bathing declined in the years following World War II as indoor plumbing and private, in-home bathrooms proliferated. Declining revenues and high operational costs in the aging facilities eventually led all of the city’s bathhouses to close by 1954.

Like many government buildings built in the early 20th Century, elegance, style and a sense of power, durability and stability were central. For example, Lincoln Park Baths’ terra cotta tile roof and round-arched clerestory (an upper portion of a wall containing windows for supplying natural light to a building) clearly were meant to emulate an elite Roman bathhouse. The building’s surface is raised/textured stucco, framed by Doric columns and ornamented with three carved, raised fish murals: one on either side of the door and one over it. Other ornamental touches include smaller, sculpted, nautilus shell murals; “egg and dart” molding below the roofline; and a highly inviting central walkway connecting the front and back.

Recast in the 1930s as Lincoln Park Recreation Center, the facility remained open as Tremont, and many other inner-city neighborhoods, fell further into poverty, neglect, and disrepair. Shower facilities remained in the building’s basement, but plumbing was removed from the upper floors and replaced by open space for meetings, ping pong, pocket billiards, basketball, boxing, medical dispensaries, boy scout meetings, dances, drama and orchestra rehearsals.

By the early 1980s, the Lincoln Park Recreation Center’s condition was such that an estimated $600,000 was required for plumbing, wiring, masonry and window replacement, and to reduce hazards of asbestos insulation and repair a leaking roof. Unable to swallow these costs, the facility closed its doors in March 1984.

Only two years later, Westlake-based Zaremba Company bought the building with intentions to make it the anchor of an imaginative and aggressive plan that also included “six free-standing townhouses and a duplex.” The structure’s reincarnation was underway. In 1996, redevelopment was complete and the Lincoln Park Baths/Recreation Center was now the Lincoln Park Condominiums. Three floors consisting of four units were available: two three-story units totaling 2065 square feet and two single-story units of 1094 square feet each. Four years later, one of the larger units sold for $269,000—roughly ten times the median price of a typical Tremont residence, and precisely ten times as much as the entire appraised value of the facility prior to its renovation.

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Ukrainians began arriving in Cleveland in the mid-1880s and made Tremont their primary settlement. The first Ukrainian Catholic parish in Cleveland was organized in the neighborhood in 1902. By 1910, the parish had constructed SS. Peter and Paul Church at 2280 West 7th Street. The church served as a focal point for the community.

The Ukrainian National Home on West 14th Street, which opened in the 1920s, was another key meeting place for Ukrainians in Tremont. Located in a mansion that had once belonged to industrialist Thomas Lamson of Lamson & Sessions Co., the home held a variety of educational, social, and recreational events until it closed in 1967. It served, too, as a temporary refuge for Ukrainian political emigres and displaced persons who came to Cleveland following World Wars I and II. By the time of its closure, much of the Ukrainian community had moved to Parma and other western suburbs.

Despite suburbanization, a Ukrainian presence remains in Tremont today. Displaced scholars founded the Ukrainian Museum-Archives (located at 1202 Kenilworth Avenue) after World War II, seeking to preserve Ukrainian history and culture while their homeland was under Soviet occupation. Since its creation in 1952, the museum, its mission, and its collections have garnered worldwide recognition and support.

In later years, the old site of the Ukrainian National Home became a Puerto Rican social hall. This transition reflects the changing nature of Tremont's community, with new waves of immigrants and ethnic groups arriving in neighborhood.

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