The First Cincinnatian was a Roman

Admit it. You've passed him a time or two. Passed him...yes...but did you ever really look at him? Maybe you hadn't the time, preferring simply to stride by during your brisk, morning jog. Or maybe a brief, errant glance was all you could spare the old man as you escorted your unruly and impatient children to Sawyer Point for the Labor Day fireworks celebration. Could it be perhaps that the only time you ever peered at him at all was out of the corner of your eye while you made your way to the serpentine wall for a lazy afternoon picnic or riverboat excursion?

Well, you're not alone in your passive, insouciant hustle. I suspect over half the city has no clue he's even there, standing tautly at Bicentennial Commons, back straight, composure erect, just waiting for you or someone else to honor him with a moment's consideration. After all you owe him and people like him a great deal. Admitedly I didn't notice him either until several years back when I was making my way to the Tall Stacks Music Festival and came upon his bearded countenance, looking askance at the city, wearing a toga, and holding out what I thought at the time - inaccurately it turns out - to be a very "cool" weapon. He sparked my interest, and I decided to do a little investigation.

The next time you're at Sawyer point, maybe you should stop by also. If the kids are tugging at your coattails, pacify them by buying them an ice cream cone. This should allow just enough time to take a really good look at him. He's certainly worth a look. His strong and stately presence makes an immediate impact; and you are as likely to be fascinated by his bronze tan and sinewy posture as the kids are by the stylish sandals on his feet. Who is he? I'm not exactly sure what that thing in his hand is. An axe bounded in dynamite? No, it couldn't be. I've seen enough Hollywood period pieces to know what he's wearing is a toga, definitely a bit of "Roman" attire; and the Romans certainly hadn't invented explosives.

It turns out that what this Roman actually holds is a "Fasces". Never used in battle, it is rather a symbol of power and authority used in the ancient civilization to denote trust and leadership. Essentially a bundle of rods with the head of an ax projecting through it, it is actually much more than that. A Fasces bestows honor and respect on the man who wields it; and, in this instance, the man who wielded it - Cincinnatus - was heralded down through the ages as the individual who wielded it most responsibly.

So much so, in fact, that 2,500 years later a city on a yet undiscovered continent would be named in his honor. A group of army officers, calling themselves the Society of Cincinnatus, believed it most pertinent that the first major town settled in the aftermath of the Revolutionary War be named in honor of a hero that would always call to the mind the humble and unselfishly couragous contributions of great leadership in times of national crisis. Just as Cincinnatus had set aside his plow to pick up his sword to challenge the enemies of his own Roman Republic, so did the group of Soldiers in the Society of Cincinnatus leave their own farms and homes to pick up the muskets and cutlasses they used to challenge the efforts of the British to squash their own nascent Repbulic. Once done, victorious soldiers like Cincinnatus and Washington, who could have easily seized power as their milatristic spoils, rather chose instead to yield their weapons, to surrender the Fasces, and to pick back up their farming implements, returning to their fields; and forsaking power to fulfill the greater responsibility of civic virtue. The bundled ax or "fasces" was like a relay baton, granted in trust to the receiver, the ruler, and once the job was complete, surrendered in trust back to the bestower, the people.

Then, when called upon yet again, just as Washington was during the crisis of the Constitutional Convention, or Cincinnatus when he was called out of retirement to put down a second revolt, each returned to power just long enough to prove that the only power worth having is that which can be employed responsibly and used for the greater common good. Cinncinnatus, as was his lot, saved the Roman Republic twice; while Washington founded a nation and later established the theretofore unheard of precedent and peaceful transition of democratically elected power.

Both men have been lauded for their efforts, and both men have had towns named after them. You knew the story of Washington, and now you know the story of Cincinnatus.



Legend has it that Cincinnatus was plowing his fields when a Roman emissary came to him to announce the people's greater need of his service. Undaunted, Cincinnatus forsook his private interests, strode into the arena, saved his country and, upon casting away his sword, later - and more importantly - preserved the march of Civilization with his plow. To this day we have not forgot his example, or those of others like him. How can we, especially in Cincinnati, when just the mere mention of name, conjures up such a wonderful history.

His story will hopefully continue to be our story. His tale is a testament to uncomplicated courage, and self-abdication in the face of tremendous public challenges and personal temptation. It is something we can all learn from - Cincinnatian and American Citizen alike - as each of us face in our own way the many competing and often clashing responsibilities of our lives, some calling for one kind of sacrifice and some calling for another. In the end, it is the job we do in the "fields," at our jobs, in our homes, as citizens, perhaps you in the office, yard, or on the highway, me in the hotel, but all of us with the understanding that there is greater cause for doing what we do, a cause which goes beyond our personal inclinations, extending to our families, friends, co-workers, and fellow citizens, and often calling for greater public discernment.

We all have responsibilities to and for each other. Our personal freedom can only be the result of our public responsibility. This is what Cincinnatus teaches us, a lesson in citizenship; and this is further the ideal upon which the city of Cincinnati was founded. It is one of the reasons why I am very grateful to be a Cincinnatian; and why also that, although at first surprised, I was elated to discover that the first Cincinnatian, at least symbolically, was very deservedly a Roman General and citizen farmer.