On April 12th, 1934, in the middle of the workday, 1,000 workers walked out of the Electric Auto-Lite factory in Toledo, Ohio, in a protest for better working conditions and wages — an act that would become known as one of the most memorable and influential strikes of the Great Depression.
“I grew up where reading and writing was my biggest problem … And I always wanted to fit in. But I couldn't because my reading and writing stopped me.”
Stephan Woodley is 61 years old. For nearly 60 of those years, he couldn’t read.
It can be difficult for residents of the Western Lake Erie Basin to see beyond the surface when it comes to the harmful algal blooms that disrupt their local watershed. After all, it is the green scum that appears on the lake every summer that poses health risks, obstructs recreational activities and creates eyesores on the area’s most treasured natural resource.
They say a good building can take on many lives. But in many post-industrial spaces across the country, it’s often easier to forgo creativity for efficiency. The historic structures of Toledo are no exception. Over the last century, many beautiful buildings of this port city have been demolished, allowed to fall into disrepair, whose costs of maintenance far outweighs its capital potential. Yet on the waterfront block of Fort Industry Square, along its quaint facades of varying heights and styles, something quietly transformative is happening.
From mound-building cultures all the way to the final American Indian tribes removed from the area, Northwest Ohio holds a rich and tragic Indigenous history. While Native American histories are overlooked and often intentionally forgotten all across the country, Northwest Ohio is particularly seldom associated with native identity and stories, creating a gap in public memory and local history that emphasizes comfortable narratives over complex and harsh realities.
The 1950s and 1960s were Dorr Street’s golden era. Once considered Toledo’s “Black downtown,” it housed a majority of the city’s Black community and was an important commercial and community hub. The February 3, 1992 Black History edition of The Toledo Journal recalled the street as a place where people young and old got together on the weekend and where families would go shopping, go to the movies, go bowling and attend church. All types of stores and shops decorated the streets, a colorful and lively setting for its residents.
In 2014, Toledo, Ohio experienced a severe water crisis caused by toxic algal blooms in Lake Erie. The height of the crisis — when the city’s drinking water was shut down for half a million residents — only lasted three days, but the effects of the crisis continue to impact residents today. Each time we turn on the tap water, pay water bills, sit on a boat or fish in the river, the ecological imbalance that reared its head in 2014 affects our lives in subtle — and often unequal — ways.
In 2014, Toledo, Ohio experienced a severe water crisis caused by toxic algal blooms in Lake Erie. The height of the crisis — when the city’s drinking water was shut down for half a million residents — only lasted three days, but the effects of the crisis continue to impact residents today. Each time we turn on the tap water, pay water bills, sit on a boat or fish in the river, the ecological imbalance that reared its head in 2014 affects our lives in subtle — and often unequal — ways.
"The Avenue" was once a vibrant commercial district fit to rival the luxurious shopping centers downtown. Today, the street bears the familiar scars of crime, poverty and divestment that have become synonymous with Chicago's South Side. The Ave, however, has a rich history and cultural memory that has not yet decayed — photographs and testimonials memorialize its better days, and locals look toward a future where The Ave will once again be in full bloom.
It’s July 19th, 2021, a beautiful summer day in a tree-lined neighborhood in Toledo, Ohio. The sun is shining and the temperature hovers around 86 degrees Fahrenheit, but there’s plenty of shade to make a picnic or a barbecue pleasant despite the heat. But if you live a few miles away — particularly in the inner-city — it’s more than 10 degrees hotter, substantially raising both health risks and electric bills…
