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Greg: Yellow Springs, Ohio, is 70 miles and a generation away. The miles go north and east. The generational trek is a matter of to-ing and fro-ing. In Greene County, not far from Dayton, Yellow Springs is on a psychic plane somewhere between Mayberry and Xanadu. Home to Antioch College, the city is reminiscent of Oxford, another college town, but without the self-importance.
Larry: Yellow Springs is mellow, laid-back, liberal and comfortable. It can also be comatose, fickle, exasperating and boring.
Greg: We’re unlikely travel partners — “the two most anti-social people in the world,” according to our boss, who doesn’t know we know he said it. Being a grump has an advantage; we so seldom expect to be pleased that it takes very little to amuse us.
Larry: We arrive in Yellow Springs on a Monday in early afternoon.
We’re hungry and decide on the Old Trail Tavern. The guy behind the bar isn’t very friendly, and when Greg attempts to order a mixed drink he almost gets his head chopped off. “No mixed drinks, just beer and wine,” our host declares. I have a beer and a veggie burger, and Greg has a glass of wine and some kind of chili dish smothered in onions. It doesn’t smell very good.
Greg: The college is out of session when we visit Yellow Springs. It would be unfair to say there’s only one street in town offering opportunities for diversion. There are, in fact, two streets.
Larry: Epic Book Shop looks interesting from the outside, but it’s closed on Monday. On a nearby street we find another bookstore; it’s also closed. We decide to have cocktails and dinner at The Winds, recognized as one of the best restaurants in the Midwest — but not on Mondays. It’s closed.
We settle on Peach’s, a friendly looking little bar and restaurant. The food and service are pretty good. But if you order wine, Peach’s charges a $5 uncorking fee. The waitress seems surprised when I ask if this is a joke.
Greg: The uncorking fee is an annoyance, but behind Peach’s is a bargain that more than offsets it: a live-bait machine with $1 cups of worms. Larry seems uninterested in taking night crawlers, minnows or mealworms to his motel room. Perhaps my boss is right about him.
Larry: Aside from having a coffeemaker that doesn’t work, the rooms at the Best Western in nearby Xenia are pleasant.
Greg: Except for the old woman who bangs on my door at 5:15 a.m., yelling, “Lois, are you up? Lois!” Lois isn’t in my room.
Larry: The two Yellow Springs bookstores are open on Tuesday; they’re quirky and fun. The town also has Dingleberry’s, a first-rate head shop.
Greg: Next door is the Import Shop, where I find Joker rolling papers for $1.05, about one-third of the price I’ve paid in Cincinnati. I also like the sticker on a display case: “I might be a federal agent.”
Larry: The Winds is an excellent restaurant. I highly recommend the barbecued salmon, the best I’ve ever tasted. The service is extremely friendly, even when someone in our party has the gall to light up a joint at an outside table. Within seconds, the words “I smell pot” echo from the staff.
Greg: It might have been a federal agent. I order black bean chili and instead am served a soup of Spanish garbanzo beans and prosciutto.
Larry: The people, the streets, the shopping and the feel of Yellow Springs remind both of us of Clifton’s Gaslight District. Most of the people you pass on the street make eye contact and say hello.
Greg: The Epic Book Shop reminds me of a living room. It’s cozy, in no small part because owner Gail Slichtenfels and her daughter, 5-year-old Hypatia, are busy working on an art project as customers browse uninterrupted. I buy a book subtitled The Spiritual Benefits of a Painful Childhood, perfect reading material for anti-social types.
Then it happens: I find a shop that makes me want to come back and do some unnecessary consumer spending. It’s called Sam and Eddie’s Open Books. The books aren’t much, but oh, Mama! the weird gifts — Blessed Virgin Mary cut-out dolls, including evening gown and swimsuit; Tainted Love Bath Oil; and Wash Away Your Sins soap.
Larry: The people of Yellow Springs seem to do things their own way — take it or leave it. Yeah, you can have a decent time on 100 bucks. But don’t go on Monday in the summer, when so much is closed.
Greg: Or on Tuesday, if you want to visit Corner Books, whose motto is, “Celebrating dissent and good causes.” A sign says, “If we are closed, it’s because we need volunteers to stay open.” That’s the kind of anti-social attitude a man really enjoys.
Larry: If you decide to order wine at Peach’s, remember to take a corkscrew with you.
This article appears in Aug 14-20, 2002.
