The fountain at Fountain Square was a gift. Not to the city, but to the people. It says right there on the statue, on the pedestal where the Genius of Water stands: “To the people of Cincinnati.”
It was a thank you, a token of appreciation from a local hardware merchant to the hometown folks who made him a success.
But it has been so much more. For the past 150 years, Fountain Square and its iconic fountain have been the heart of Cincinnati.
Gregory Parker Rogers, in his book on Fountain Square, called it “the living room of downtown Cincinnati.” It is where we gather to celebrate the ends of wars and the victories of the Reds. Where we take our kids ice skating and listen to live music while eating a double-scoop of Graeter’s ice cream. Where we protest injustice and pose for photos and bring our out-of-town friends.
The Tyler Davidson Fountain was dedicated on Fountain Square on Oct. 6, 1871. And 150 years and a couple of makeovers later, the square is as busy as ever.
Fountain Square and the fountain have made a lasting impact on the city, as a symbol and an inspiration to make Cincinnati better. The fountain elevated the caliber of the surrounding area and has become the focal point of Cincinnati’s identity.
It is no coincidence that the first project Cincinnati Center City Development Corp. (3CDC) tackled in its revitalization strategy — before Vine Street in Over-the-Rhine and before The Banks — was the renovation of Fountain Square.
You start with the heart.
‘Blessings and benefits of water’
Brothers-in-law Henry Probasco and Tyler Davidson were partners in a hardware business in Cincinnati in 1840. As their business prospered over the next two decades, they wanted to thank the citizens for their patronage with the gift of a fountain. Something practical yet more beautiful than any other statue.
Then, the nation became embroiled in the Civil War and such plans were put on hold. In December 1865, eight months after the war’s end, Davidson died, so the purpose of Probasco’s fountain became two-fold – a gift to the people and a tribute to his partner.
Probasco traveled across Europe, finally locating a magnificent fountain design by August von Krehling at the Royal Bronze Foundry in Munich, in collaboration with Ferdinand von Miller.
In a letter to the Cincinnati mayor, Probasco explained the meaning behind the fountain, “to represent the blessings and benefits of water.” An apt symbol for a river city.
The mother figure of the Genius of Water, her arms outstretched, bestows from her hands “the ever-flowing rain, the blessing of God” to the people below her. A peasant farmer hoping for rain for his thirsty fields. A man praying for water to douse a fire. A mother cajoling her child to a bath. A young woman offering a cup to her invalid father.
Probasco requested four additional figures be made, each a boy wrestling an animal with a water spout to make it a drinking fountain. The one astride a turtle is known as Turtle Joe.
“The Tyler Davidson Fountain is at once realistic and idealistic, practical and poetic,” John Clubbe wrote in “Cincinnati Observed.”
The total cost for the fountain was approximately $110,000, or about $2.5 million in 2021 dollars, according to Official Data Foundation’s inflation calculator.
‘Transformed the dingy blocks’
City officials had the perfect spot in mind for the fountain.
Public street markets like Findlay Market were scattered throughout the city, providing residents with produce, bread and meats. The Fifth Street Market that occupied the area between Vine and Walnut streets had a rough-and-tumble reputation, a place ladies were recommended to avoid. The city leaders saw this as an opportunity to get rid of the unsightly marketplace and build something beautiful.
But the butchers knew that the property had been deeded to the city for the sole use as a marketplace, so they sued. The Ohio Supreme Court ruled that a fountain “is a proper and frequent addition to market spaces, and not inconsistent with the use of the ground for such purpose.”
Before anyone could challenge the ruling, City Council had workers ready with axes and crowbars as soon as they voted, and the Fifth Street Market was torn down in three hours.
Thus, the former nuisance was transformed into an elegant island in the middle of Fifth Street.
The original Fountain Square was quite different than it is today. It was an elliptical esplanade lined in street lamps with lanes of Fifth Street on either side of it. And the fountain faced east, toward Munich. The square designed by William Tinsley cost the city $75,000. It was to be called Probasco Place, but right away it was known as Fountain Square.
The Tyler Davidson Fountain was draped in white muslin at the dedication on Oct. 6, 1871, when it was unveiled to the public. Tens of thousands of people crowded in, causing sections of the temporary seating to collapse. Every dignitary in the region was present. Ohio Gov. Rutherford B. Hayes, the former city solicitor and future president, gave an address, as did many others. Probasco received an ovation.
The Cincinnati Commercial the next day foretold the effect of the fountain – with a dash of hyperbole:
“And when upon this magnificent work of art, trophy of enterprise and symbol of civilization, descends the mellowness of time, and gathers the traditions of generations in whose lives it has been an influence, and when as a radiant educator in our midst it has transformed the dingy blocks about it, creating in the surroundings a fitness with itself, its reputation as well for loveliness as for appositeness, far extended part of the wealth of the city; it will be, perhaps, not one of the wonders, but certainly one of the graces of the world.”
Just in case, once a year the mayor purchased a flower from a cast-iron flower stand on the esplanade, making Fountain Square, temporarily, a marketplace.
Heart of the city
The fountain beautified more than Fountain Square. It raised the standards all around it.
C.R. Mabley and J.T. Carew, clothiers from Detroit, chose the northeast corner of Fifth and Vine streets to build their Cincinnati store because of the proximity to the square. Carew often looked disdainfully across the way at the saloons and dirty storefronts, what was dubbed the “nasty corner,” and vowed to build something nice there. He did, the stately Carew Building in 1891. The Emery family later built Carew Tower on that same spot.
On the southeast side of the square was the majestic Albee Theater and the historic Gibson Hotel. Across from the Walnut Street end was the august U.S. Post Office and Customs House.
In Cincinnati’s early days, Main Street was the main street with most activity near the river. With Fountain Square, the heart of the city moved further west and inland, with Vine Street its new artery.
Bundled up children stood on the square to watch Christmas pantomimes in the 1890s. On Armistice Day, 1918, a man climbed the flag pole and rang the “liberty bell” while people whooped it up for the end of the Great War.
On Aug. 14, 1945, when news broke that Japan had surrendered, ending World War II, relieved Cincinnatians flooded Fountain Square, sweltering under a shower of ticker-tape confetti.
Reds fans cheered the team winning the pennant in ’61. Someone poured a gallon of liquid soap into the fountain basin and the square was awash in suds.
For the wild World Series celebrations in the 1970s, Fountain Square was dramatically different.
‘A catalyst for redevelopment’
Urban renewal swept through Cincinnati in the 1950s and ’60s. Many old-time buildings were torn down, replaced with office skyscrapers. Fountain Square was to be the centerpiece, a gathering space that one writer observed would serve “as a catalyst for redevelopment downtown.”
Crumbling retail buildings were cleared away for Fountain Square to move over and out of the street. The fountain was turned around to face west, a beacon to the oncoming traffic, with the brand-new Dubois Tower (now Fifth Third Center) as its backdrop.
The new Fountain Square Plaza, completed in 1969, was designed to accommodate crowds, with different levels creating plenty of places to sit. And they came, filling the square at lunchtime, browsing the library book sale or just people-watching. Eminent city planner Edmund Burke called the new Fountain Square “the most successful public square in America.”
Yet, the fountain was getting old and looked it. It was cleaned for the first time since 1902 and rededicated on its centennial in 1971.
Over the decades, the bronze oxidized and had turned a green patina called verdigris. For generations of Cincinnatians, that was how the Genius of Water had always looked. When the TV show “WKRP in Cincinnati” presented the Queen City in America’s living rooms from 1978 to 1982, every episode began with a zoom-out from the dark emerald fountain.
A new color coat
A study in 1998 determined that the fountain had become corroded and the structural supports and plumbing were deteriorating. The fountain underwent a $1.5 million restoration along with a new pewter coating, restoring its original bronze brown color. The spruced up Tyler Davidson Fountain was dedicated once again on May 6, 2000.
At the same time, urban planning ideas had shifted, and the 1969 Fountain Square was outdated. So, five years after the fountain was restored, it was taken down again while Fountain Square received a new underground garage and a rebuilt plaza as part of a $48.9 million renovation managed by 3CDC.
While the work was being done, the Genius of Water figure was displayed at the Cincinnati Art Museum, affording folks a rare up-close look at our iconic lady.
The fountain was returned to the square, but set back further from the road and shifted once again, this time facing south, to the river.
The third version of Fountain Square opened Oct. 14, 2006. A large LED screen overlooks the square, which is bustling every day. Restaurants, a concert stage, an ice rink, a lunchtime bar and a German holiday market. Fountain Square is certainly a marketplace now.
A century and a half young, the heart is still going strong.
Sources: “Fountain Square and the Genius of Water: The Heart of Cincinnati” by Gregory Parker Rogers, “Cincinnati Observed: Architecture and History” by John Clubbe, “Lost Cincinnati,” Enquirer and Commercial archives.
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